Space Era

Chapter One

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say.

Yet here I am yelling at the top of my lungs in, well, I guess a space ship? But sadly the only answer I’m receiving is the echo of my own voice bouncing off the cold dark metal walls.

“Is this a transporter ship where you’re from? Because where I’m from this would be a piece of shit trash loader ,” I say to the dark figures across the room, piercing the long going silence.

I would be saying it straight to their faces, but they have me strapped to a table still..

The dark figures continue to communicate in a language I don’t recognize but I’m sure they probably have some translator device on me and are just choosing to not respond. I don’t remember how I got here but my head feels like it was hit pretty hard. The metal device wrapped around my forehead definitely doesn’t help the pain. My neck was also strapped to the table so I couldn’t sit up to even look around anymore than what my eyes could see at my sides. From what I could see it was an all small dark room with a narrow rectangular window looking out into space. The metal plates on the walls seemed to be barely hanging on by their bolts and the singular bright light above me looked like an old dentists lamp from the 1990s on Earth.

I hear screams that sound human coming from the distance. My stomach clenches expecting them to start torturing me at any moment. But just as I thought the dark figures were going to begin torturing me with the devices they were gathering up, they hurriedly leave the room. I hear the door shut behind them with a loud swish and then I’m just left alone again, in silence. After what feels like for ever, suddenly what sounds like a record being started, sounds over the speakers above me.

“Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper I love you. Birds singing in the sycamore tree. Dream a little dream of me. Say nighty night and kiss me…,” Ella Fitzgerald’s song plays over the speakers getting louder and louder.

Does this advanced civilization not have something better than records from the 1930s on Earth to listen to? Is this their form of torture? Why would they be trying to brain wash me?

I close my eyes attempting to remember how I got here, trying not to let the music distract me. When I open my eyes again a few moments later, I’m sitting at a darkly colored wooden bar with a brass back liquor shelf in a large dim lit building.

“Ma’am? Are you sure you want another drink?,” an older grey haired very tan bartender in a white suit and black bow tie asks me from behind the bar.

Finally I’ve been transported by these “aliens” to the ships bar. Must have been while I dozed off. Finally I’m being treated with some respect. They must have gotten the letter.

“You know, you look strangely human. Were you kidnapped too?,” I ask the bartender, wondering why I’m also now in sheer panty hose and black satin closed toed kitten heels.

“Excuse me miss? Maybe you have had too much already,” he says putting rock glasses back on the rack behind him.

“Wait! Sorry I was just joking around, I’ll take your cheapest bourbon on the rocks please,” I say examining my outfit in the faint reflection of myself in the shiny brass wall behind the liquor bottles.

I’m wearing a white fur coat, over top a beige a line mid calf length dress with pearls laying on top of my pushed up breasts. My red hair is in tight pin curls, hair sprayed away from my face with a green side turned up wool derby hat barely holding onto my head. I must have drunkenly dosed off at some New Years Eve Gatsby themed party. Such an over done theme. My corset like bra is squeezing my ribs too tight so I reach behind my back and try to unzip my dress to loosen it, but to my surprise all I feel is a never ending trail of buttons.

“ Ugh,” I don’t know which one of my girlfriends convinced me to wear this but I should have known better to not go out drinking in something so hard to take off.

“That’s going to be forty cents miss,” the bartender says handing me a sparkling crystal glass of bourbon with a singular cube of ice.

“Now come on Lenny give her a discount,” a middle aged dark haired man in black dress pants held up by black suspenders and a white button up shirt says from beside of me.

“That isn’t already discounted enough?,” I ask very confused looking at the both of them.

“No really, how much do I owe you?,” I ask after downing the whole drink in one go.

“Fine, you know what for you, it’s forty five cents,” the bartender says while cleaning glasses, clearly annoyed.

“Put it on my tab, the cash is for you,” the dark haired man says sliding the bartender a cash tip.

“Wow. What a gentleman, a whole forty five cents. I’m sure I have more drink tickets in my purse, no need to spend you’re whole one minutes pay on me,” I say fishing around in the green velvet draw string coin purse hanging from my wrist.

“Now ma’am if I made forty five cents a minute in the Navy I think a lot more people would be sailors,” the man says handing change to the bartender.

“What? You don’t even make twenty to thirty an hour? Damn. What has become of our government? I think I should be the one buying you a drink…,” I say before being cut off by police sirens outside.

“Everyone run!,” yells the bartender jumping over the bar.

“Why is everyone leaving?,” I loudly ask as the dark haired man grabs my hand and yanks me off my bar stool.

“Maybe because no one wants to get arrested?,” he yells leading me quickly out of the back of the building.