Q enjoyed the freedom and loneliness of the dirt road
leading out of the city. The wheat fields were chest high and fragrant. Q was grateful to Travis, the 53 year old man who
said he never cared about fame. Travis said it did not matter to him if anyone knew he was superior. He had no friends or
relatives. Meanwhile, he loaned Q a good t shirt. Q wore the pants from the laundry and the athletic shoes stolen from the
police officer. Why had Q done that? He forgot. Something had bothered Q about the hospital. He felt he had escaped although
there was no reason he should have been confined. Nevertheless, Q regretted attacking the officer who threatened to capture
Q as he went to find his guitar. Now, Q saw the beautiful, tall structure ahead. Masters of Opulence Talent Agency.
Angela rode on the space ship, Zenon's daughter. Angela
was eleven and good at telepathy. She could see the same things Q saw. There seemed to be excitement in this case whereas
most humans stuck to their routines. Fritz, age eight, would contact Jake, also age eight but a human being food stock.
In fact, some prominent citizens bothered Zenon, Fritz's dad, and wanted young meat for holidays, etc. These individuals
could distract Zenon who was already busy and worked ten to twelve hours per day. In space, obviously, the time functions
did not apply the same as Earth's. However, the ship maintained decorum and stuck to the electronic clocks.
"Does the Tube go out into space?" asked Jake as he hoed
ground near the Tube itself, a fascinating object in the potato field managed by Morris and Susan, Jake's parents. "I believe
the Tube ejects the applicant into space to go to a wonderful planet."
"Meanwhile," thought Fritz. He paid attention to his
sister, Angela, perhaps herself in telepathic connection with an Earthling. "Meanwhile, Jake, worry about being chosen too
Fritz did not think it was fair that privileged citizens
claimed young boy meat was scrumptious compared to other meat. No, Jake should continue to hoe his potatoes for years to
Zenon enjoyed a cup of coffee, relaxed in his office chair,
and set the lights low while floor to ceiling windows on three sides exhibited billions of stars. Zenon's ship arrived at
Earth while the large space ship, ten times bigger, would be here forty five years from now. He let his mind wander.
On Earth, at the MOO facility in 3163AD, United States,
two good workers held positions receiving the MOO bus from downtown.
"There is no public transportation from the city limits,"
Ralph thought. At twenty five, it would be difficult to find another good job like this, MOO facility coordinator. Ralph
earned enough to live in the glass part of the city. He could see the base of the Kall Building, forty stories tall, downtown.
This wasn't the extremely successful neighborhood, but Ralph was advancing. However, if public transportation ever crossed
the wheat field to the Masters of Opulence Talent Agency, Ralph could be laid off. He expressed his concern to an associate.
"No," Mallory often did not hesitate to contradict Ralph.
Usually, Mallory was right. "No, Ralph. I doubt it. Even if the applicants arrive out here on their own, our positions
will be needed."
"Some form of euthanasia could be employed. Maybe a floor
the applicant would drop through onto spikes or something," said Ralph.
Zenon could see what Mallory could see. Mallory accepted
that he was mentally ill. Otherwise, why would a guy of his intelligence need to be employed at a lowly position? Greeter
for the MOO bus, once a day, of applicants. It was supposed to be 10 per day when Mallory began this job. Now, it was closer
to twenty "Elvises" they were called.
"I'm worried about job security," said Ralph.
"Tell him he's crazy, then laugh," Zenon projected a telepathic
thought to Mallory, the killer on Earth employed at the MOO facility.
"Ralph," laughed Mallory, "you are crazy."