The inside of the spaceship Violet and Black Nebula owned was best described as... nostalgic. Sure, the floor and walls were metal and sometimes hissed with steam that vented in air, but there was an odd familiarity with it all. There were desks fixed into the floor, and shelves built into the wall. In what was likely the 'living room' of the ship, there was a round carpet the color of moss, and stool-like chairs surrounded an oval table. Thatcher wanted to run around and explore it all, but she wasn't a child on some grand adventure. She was someone who needed to get home, and fast.

"Like it?" Black Nebula asked.

Thatcher nodded. "Yeah... I do." She said. "Where do we sleep?" What the fuck am I going to eat?

Black Nebula picked up a white, plastic box with a sealed lid. "If you follow me, I'll show you your bunk. I assume you have nothing else on your person? No utilities?"

"I didn't come here for a vacation, so no." Thatcher deadpanned.

"SINCE you don't know SHIT around here, we are just going to go get some groceries that'll last a cycle or so." Violet said, pacing around the room. "I hope you know how to at least do that."

"Well yes, I do. I'm not completely helpless." She murmured. "Shouldn't I get a proper tour of your ship first?"

As if attempting to snap her fingers, Violet tapped the silver beans on her fingers together. "Oh, right! Yes, of course, go follow my descendent and she will show you everything."

"That's what I just said!" Black Nebula cried.

Thatcher was certain her brain was still comprehending her current situation, because most of Violet's words sounded like impulsive gibberish. In fact, this purple thing's dialect reminded Thatcher of the internet, something she suddenly missed having. No matter, she turned away from Violet and followed Black Nebula down a hall. There was one hall on this ship. It spanned from the cockpit to the very back, where she was sure it divided into further fractions. To her suspicion, Thatcher was correct, as Black Nebula took a detour to the first left.

Trailing behind, they came into a decently-sized room. On the wall directly opposite of the exit was a set of bunk beds, both empty and bare. On the left wall were buttons, and when Black Nebula pressed one, drawers slid out. Other than the patterns on the metal, the room was horribly boring, just begging for someone to design it with love and care. Thatcher took this opportunity to slide off her lab coat, exposing her arms to the air. She felt lucky that the shirt underneath remained clean and spotless, especially considering it was a light shade of blue. Periwinkle, if she remembered correctly, was the name of the blue.

Black Nebula turned her box upside down. "What's your favorite color?" She asked.

"Red." Answered Thatcher. "A deep, blood red. Why?"

"Your bedding." Black Nebula chirped.

She imputed something on the box, and shook it gently. She then pried open the lid, and suddenly, a torrent of maroon sheets enveloped the bottom mattress in seconds. The sound it made was unidentifiable, but it did make Thatcher squeak and flinch back. The finished result, however, made her creep back into place. She rubbed her eyes from behind her glasses. Putting on sheets was as simple as that in this new world.

"Holy shit." She exhaled.

"A common reaction to this thing." Black Nebula stated. She smiled. "This shall be your bed. We will get your pillows when we go to Silicon, but first, I will show you everything else on this ship."

Thatcher backed out into the hallway, letting her smaller companion take the lead once more. "How did that do that?"

"It's called insta-sheets. A one-time use, but since there's only two of us, we haven't gotten to do anything with that extra until now." Black Nebula explained. "This is just me and Violet's rooms, but you can intrude on our personal space at a different time."

They know my behaviors so well, thought Thatcher. "Ok."

"And over there is the bathroom and storage." Black Nebula said, pointing to the passage at the very back of the ship. "There is a hatch to access the systems of this spaceship, but I don't think you'd fit."

Thatcher put her hands up. "Sign me out of that, I'm claustrophobic."

Black Nebula smiled. "Noted! Don't tell Violet."

Or what? She'll lock me there? Thatcher didn't ask, for she feared the answer she'd get. Instead of being shown the storage area, Black Nebula skipped ahead and went back to the living room. Thatcher stood there, mildly surprised. She slipped back into her room, and placed her coat on the crimson sheets she had requested. Curiously, she pressed her hand into it, and was met with an incredibly soft, smooth sensation. It made no noise as she wiped her hand across it.

She wanted to rest. She wanted to flop on this bed and shut her eyes, and pray that this was all a dream. A bad, bad dream. And when she wakes up, she'd be back in the lab with her friends, and everything would be fine. Thatcher let her eyes close at this moment, but the aching in her heart told her that she'd stay here. She hoped it wouldn't be forever, but that hope was slipping away.

Letting out a quiet, sad sigh, Thatcher decided to visit the facilities of this vessel. It looked just about what she'd imagine an alien bathroom would look like. It had a sink half her height, and a bowl that was probably supposed to be a toilet. In addition to this, there was a box-shaped dip in the ship, with faucets on either side of it. At least there was a mirror above the sink for Thatcher to stare into.

She eventually returned to the central room where the two aliens waited. Black Nebula was standing in front of a cupboard, retrieving a porcelain construct that resembled a cocktail glass fused with a crescent moon. She then moved to a facet on the same wall, and pressed a few symbols on a holographic screen that appeared out of nowhere. Suddenly, a silvery fluid began to fill the glass, until it was mostly full. Black Nebula brought it to her mouth, and took a few gulps before turning to the stranded Human watching in awe.

"So here's a speed-run of advice for ya, Thatcher." Violet said as she adjusted the seven dials on a small, radio-like device, which was situated on a small counter. "Don't make deals with Cigians. Just don't. Always keep a personal flying thing on you, because you may fall and lose the power to get back up. If you don't have a flying thing, the Valimarks will make sure you do. Don't break the law because the Paleis will get your ass, and don't post anything with violence, sexual themes, or politics on the astronomy network or the astronomers will get your ass."

"I once submitted interpretation art of a slug show as a lawless mind-controlling experiment, and they wouldn't let me forget that for years..." Black Nebula chipped in, taking another sip from her mystery drink.

Violet paused, and turned to stare at her friend. "The Paleis or the astronomers?"

"Both."

"Heed Black Nebula's advice, you won't regret it." Violet chuckled. "Hmm, what else?" She went back to messing with the radio, except now she tilted the single antenna on it. "Oh, yes. Please for the love of all that is holy, 'if you see a Cheat, report them immediately!' Said Alpha Gains, a long time ago."

Thatcher, who was still marveling at everything, decided to take a seat at the table. "Who is Alpha Gains?" She asked. I assume the astronomy network is like... internet, for these aliens. There's probably a lot of them if there's a whole stabilized air thing too. As for the Cheats...

"Alpha Gains is a dictator from around 25,400 lovewarps ago." Violet explained. "He is responsible for conquering several worlds, and destroying plenty of others. I'd say the most famous example of this is launching a icedeath ray onto... well, you can look it up in our terminal. The astronomy network won't let anyone find out about this one."

"Oh God." Thatcher whispered.

"I know, right? It's bullshit." Violet hissed. "Anyways, he put a target on the heads of the entire Cheat society, and while this message has been forgotten by most people, it exists in the actions of enforcers all around the galaxy."

Thatcher just mindlessly nodded along. The information confused her morality on this world and its inhabitants. Such things were things she hadn't heard of until now, and she really didn't want to make a bad first impression. She rested her forehead on her hands, cooling the spot and warding away a dulling agony. Black Nebula joined her at the table seconds after. While the two sat in front of each other, Violet finished toying with the radio, and took a step back.

A voice began speaking from the device, but it was crackly and somewhat distant. "We now return to the all-time Silicon soothe station."

"Just wanted to set the mood so you'd better relax." Violet said.

As advertised, the radio began playing a toon that was best described as soothing... and trippy. It didn't have a consistent rhythm, and seemed completely randomized with its beats. Nonetheless, it managed to make Thatcher feel that lingering sense of nostalgia. She remembered playing songs similar to this on Earth to her son as she drove him to school, or home, depending on the hour. His favorite songs were always the slow, mellow, wordless ones.

Now that she was here, in this new world, with little hope of ever making it back, memories of the past began to surface. She would never see him again, and just the knowledge alone made her heart ache. She would never see her friends, nor her ex. Being this far away from Vert should've made things easier, but the rift in her soul remained. It didn't make any sense whatsoever. Then again, nothing did anymore. Why was she still surprised by this?

"Your leg is bouncing. Are you alright?" Black Nebula inquired.

Thatcher immediately turned to stare at her questioner. "Hmm?"

"It's doin' a little jig." Violet emphasized. "Is this an excellerator kind of genre for Humans, or something? Is that it? Because I am totally ok with playing our version of fast jams if that's what calms you."

"Oh, oh-" Thatcher noticed that yes, her left leg had been slightly bouncing on its own. A response to stress. She shook her head. "No, this is nice. I like what's playing. I'm just... feeling a lot right now."

Black Nebula's yellow eyes flickered with curiosity. "How interesting. I've never seen or heard of a coping mechanism like that before."

"Well, it's not really a coping mechanism-"

"We interrupt this channel for a special news report!"

All conversation came to a pause. Thatcher lifted her head up to stare at the radio. The other two followed suit. Part of adjusting to this world would have to be spent comprehending the amount of nostalgia she saw. It would also be spent being interrupted, denied information, and secrecy. Just great. Thatcher bit her lip and tasted a faint metallicness.

"Citizens of Silicon, it has come to our attention that a protester is preventing visitors and cargo ships from landing in our fair city of Til." Said the reporter from the radio. "The Silicon Enforcement Unit is doing its best to solve this issue. Until the adversary has been cleared, please refrain from entering or exiting Til."

The voice cut off, and the music came back on. Thatcher rubbed her forehead. "We weren't going there, were we?"

Violet smiled. "You bet your ass we're going!"

"Wh-" Thatcher blinked, wanting to retake this response. "What?!"

"I told you, I'm mentally unstable and have severe impulsive tendencies to act on my thoughts without thinking first." Violet purred, sticking out her tongue. "Being trapped in a loop does that to you."

"WHAT." Thatcher blurted. "What do you mean 'trapped in a loop'?? Hello?"

"Wow, you believed that right off the bat? Pathetic!"

Then Violet fell onto the floor. Black Nebula downed the rest of her drink, and scrambled off to the cockpit on nimble feet. Thatcher sighed and held her head in her hands. Nothing here makes a lick of sense! Why couldn't I have ended up in a land of bubble gum and rainbows instead of the internet mixed with 1900's technology? Why? Is that too much to ask for, or am I a fucking idiot?

A deep, rumbling thrum derailed and destroyed her train of thought. The dainty glass jittered on the counter, before stopping. Suddenly, Thatcher felt an unexplainable weight grasp her body. It was present in each of her cells, her blood, her bones. It reminded her of that one time she did LSD, but this was much more tame to be a drug trip. It did leave her confused, as did many other things in this thirty-minute span.

"What is happening?" Thatcher asked, her voice raising.

"We're flying!" Violet cheered, refusing to pick herself up from the floor. "There are no seat belts because we are real and true to our fair country!"

"WHAT?!?!" She exclaimed. Almost jokingly, she raised her finger and proclaimed. "Computer, give me seatbelts!"

"SEATBELTS ARE NOT AN OPTION, FLESHLING." Growled an automated voice she had never heard before.

Thatcher brought both hands to the chair she currently sat in, holding onto the bottom cushion, even if it wasn't that comfortable. Great, there are actually sentient robots in this dimension, and they hate me, she thought. Her panic and disappointment suddenly became a smile. Wait, there are sentient robots here! That means humanity's technology has hope after all!

Thatcher turned her head to the uncooperative Violet, just as she felt the entire vehicle tilt downwards slightly. "You never told me you had a little goon in your mainframes!"

"I AM NOT A GOON. HOW DARE YOU CALL ME THAT." Spat the disembodied voice coming from no direction in particular.

Violet's tail flicked. "That, right there, is our autopilot." She said. "We didn't give it a name and it is very indecisive, so don't register it as anything but our autopilot and the thirty-third worst person to ever walk this existence."

Despite feeling like she was in late afternoon traffic, Thatcher understood this perfectly. "Ok. Sorry."

There was no response. She glanced around the oddly vacant room, still feeling that strange, ethereal sensation. She dared not get up, but the weird comfort she felt coaxed her into loosening her grip on her seat. Deciding to stare at the table, Thatcher bit her lip. Too many things were happening all at once, yet again proving that she'd never find peace in this moment, or at least for three months. She felt sick. Was this her adrenaline finally kicking in? She didn't know, but it did make her want to vomit all of her organs.

"Oh come on. Don't tell me you're spacesick." Violet groaned. She was now standing up, and she somehow did it without making a single sound. "Because if you are, then that just sucks, lady."

Thatcher only glanced at this purple furry for three seconds, before holding her head in her hands. "I'm going through a lot right now. Some respect would be nice." She mumbled incoherently.

The rumbling came to a stop, and with it, all sense of motion-related troubles. Violet was probably pacing around, but Thatcher didn't look to see. "Oh right. You don't have spaceships and stuff back at your world, or do you? Are you not used to this? Being in something that takes you somewhere else? Do you ride in the flesh cavities of monsters far bigger than you, or is it metal or stone? You didn't really tell us anything about your place of origin."

And neither have you, other than that this is literally a sci-fi sitcom or horror novel depending on how things go for me, Thatcher thought grumpily. "We have cars which take us everywhere with land, boats for water, and planes for air. We haven't exactly mastered our space vehicles..." she tapped her chin as she recalled memories of home. "In the 1700 and 1800's, we had flying cars, but they've fallen out of style. They're still around, but more reserved for the upper class. Around the Victorian era we designed laser-based weaponry due to a lack of resources surrounding firearms, and encounters of a..." she paused. She knew these new allies of hers weren't ready for the story that would unfold from this half-finished sentence. "You know what, I'll stop. Sorry about going off there. Yes, we do have vehicles, but spaceships like this are in no way modernized."

"Okay... gotcha. I understood all of that, sincerely." Violet murmured, her smile briefly fading. "By the way, you have a little something in your hair. Looks like an e-"

Thatcher didn't need the rest of the sentence to be completed to know what was happening. She immediately flung her head back and vigorously ran her fingers through her unkempt blond hair, and felt something small graze her nail. Hooking around this section, she pulled away, and flicked a small garden spider onto the table. Her muscles were already tense from everything else, which surprised her, because she had a mild case of arachnophobia. She remembered it used to be far worse, but working in a covert lab helped ease the fear when other matters were much more frightening.

Violet came to her right, and within seconds, Black Nebula appeared on her left. "What is that?" Asked the former.

"This is a species of garden spider back at home." Thatcher answered, watching the small animal fumble around in confusion. "This one's harmless to us, but they're pretty good predators that lie traps made of webbing so strong that if it were our size, it would be like steel beams." How is it still alive? How did it remain undetected all this time? Wouldn't Henry tell me?... Wait, no, they have worse eyesight than me...

"I have no idea what any of that means, but it sounds really cool." Black Nebula stated. "Hey autopilot, can you get us a small container that has tiny breathing holes?"

Thatcher heard a robotic sigh, and suddenly, a metallic tentacle slithered out of a port on the ceiling. In its three-fingered grasp was as described: a small container, with a cap containing holes too small for the spider to escape from. This container was see-through, but it was made of a material Thatcher had never seen before, so she couldn't confirm if it was glass or plastic. Either way, Black Nebula took it in her paws, and the tentacle slithered back to where it came from.

"Can you do it? I don't like the way it's looking at me..." Black Nebula whispered.

As always, it's up to me to be the capturer of unwanted inquiries, Thatcher thought. She took the container when it was offered, and with swift precision, guided the arachnid into its translucent chamber. The lid didn't screw on, it simply popped into place. Setting the container upright, the three could all view their stowaway in safety. Thatcher glanced at the two aliens by her side, but Violet wasn't there, and Black Nebula's fur prickled. Thatcher didn't need to smell the air to know that this being was afraid.

"So, um, are we..." Thatcher stood up, turning her head around. "Did we land?"

"Affirmative." Black Nebula confirmed.

Violet, who was suddenly wearing a white, long sleeve shirt, made a cackle-like noise. "And we're in the one place that protester won't ever look!"

Thatcher breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me, thank Black Nebula! She does all the driving since I suck at it." Violet mused, doing a twirl.

The scientist stammered for a moment, before turning to a quiet Black Nebula. "Thank you." Thatcher corrected. "So... do... do I need anything, or do we just walk out?"

"Wow, you really are new to this world." Violet murmured. "Since you still don't know shit around here, I'll give you the basics: planets with air-"

Suddenly, the autopilot's gravelly voice rang out through the ship, making Thatcher flinch back into her chair. "AIR STATISTICS: SAFE FOR ENTRY. SUGGESTION: SHUT UP, VIOLET."

That answered it, and the snarky remark made Thatcher stifle a chuckle. She turned to smile at the two Juikes, but then she remembered her smile wasn't visible with her regulator on. She still smiled. The port where she entered the spaceship opened up with the sound of a mechanical hiss, and outside, orange light flooded in. Violet was already skipping and jumping out, but Black Nebula took her time, and Thatcher found it wise to do the same. With the spider in containment, there was nothing earthly that could interfere with the trio. Surely, nothing.

Light filled her eyes, and then an incomprehensible wave of slender white buildings sprouted around her as her sight adjusted. The sky was a beautiful alteration of magenta and peach, and the clouds reflected these colors with perfection.

"So what about that protester that we deliberately avoided?" Thatcher asked.

Violet shrugged. "Different landing zone. It was the sector of the city where most of the traffic goes. Us? We have a way to find meaning in this tangled mess."

"I... suppose that makes sense." Thatcher murmured. "Are you certain this world will have what I need? I'm different in comparison to you."

Black Nebula casted a reassuring gaze. "Don't worry about it. In due time, we will find exactly what makes you function."

That's a way of putting it. Thatcher didn't say anything more, for she knew she'd have to save her voice for the shopping they'd do. The first place they visited was this quaint, medium-sized building full of foods and drinks safely contained in metal tupperware. According to the dendrogaster alien running the shop, almost all the items were strictly for oxygen-breathing lifeforms, which Thatcher and the Juikes counted for. The reason they were locked away was due to varying reactions they could have to non-oxygen-breathing species. Either way, Thatcher found it relieving and odd that she was already finding things she needed.

"Over here, we have a selection of slim, baked goods known as crackers." The shopkeeper explained, floating above the group on fleshy, wing-like tendrils. "They make great snacks, but if you live an efficient lifestyle, then these may not be the best items for you."

Thatcher held her hands together. "How many different kinds do you have?" I usually eat saltines and oyster crackers when I'm sick. Other-dimensional crackers may not be so different!

"The items on the left are herb-flavored, the middle items are fruit-flavored, and the left items are plain."

"I'll take a case of the plains, thank you." She said, wanting to play things safe on her first day.

The shopkeeper nodded, and reached into the display machine to retrieve a football-sized box of seemingly ordinary crackers. The rest of the time at this grocery store was spent similarly. Thatcher was presented with a variety of options, and she chose the most boring one. She did, however, want to taste a type of fruit that was famously spicy to most aliens, but decided such a fruit would be better another day. Black Nebula bought several vegetables and soup kits, and Violet purchased a slab of meat, along with everything Thatcher requested.

After storing their groceries in the spaceship, they set off to a farther distance to visit a clothing store. Like a daydream, everything in this store was custom-tailored, which forced Thatcher to be a model for around half an hour as several attendants measured her body and created about ten different pairs of shirts, pants, bras, and undergarments for her to wear. It was a mystifying experience, but also a tiring and anxiety-filled one... not to mention embarrassing.

Then, after exiting the clothing store, the group headed to a massive electronics center. Apparently, there were so many different gadgets to choose from, that it had to take up three blocks. Thatcher absolutely did not know the function of these devices, but there were a few that behaved similarly to laptops, cellphones, and gaming systems. Even more, they all had wildly different designs, functions, and layouts. It reminded her of home.

"What are you looking for, in terms of technicality?" Asked Black Nebula, who had a maroon copy of the device Violet had earlier. "Does your mentality belong in the stars, or are you more upfront with your experiences?"

Thatcher, who has been confused for around four hours now, shivered. "What does any of that mean?" Man, these bags are getting a little heavy...

"She means: are you a shitposter who lives on the astronomy network, or are you a basic bitch who just likes relaying between friends and playing silly games?" Violet emphasized.

"Both...?" Thatcher shrugged.

Violet grinned. "Good. That means you aren't entirely hopeless, like my brother."

"Brother?" Thatcher blurted.

"My brother, Arrhyth." Violet answered. "This little guy. Sweetest kid in all of reality. He started a band, but then he died. His fans shot him in the head. A child, in the head. Shot in the head. A child." She put a finger to her chin. "Or was it a merc who violently tore open his chest and ripped out his heart... I can't remember, but if I see that Demon again, I'll know."

"I think he was shot first, but then the merc got him." Black Nebula guessed.

Violet casted the other a side-glance. "Nebula, your mom wasn't even born when that happened. How could you possibly know these events?"

"We have the footage of the event on tape, that's how I know." She answered. "We can look at it when the Human sleeps... unless someone is feeling lucky."

Thatcher shivered again upon hearing this, or maybe it was because a chilly wind was sweeping the city. It was probably both, but Thatcher refused to let this bother her, and so she steered the conversation back to its original topic. "Is there a device here that allows me to use the internet and talk to you? Or has this society moved past logic?"

Violet and Black Nebula nodded in sync. "Sure do, buddy." Violet purred. "It's called a cellulose techno, and it's all a girl could ask for."

"Then can I get one? I'm sure it will be useful here." Knowing myself, I am going to use it to look for an escape to home... and maybe check out the memes here. Yes, good plan. Or rather, good on me for knowing my own behavior.

Black Nebula frowned. "I don't know if they sell those here, actually..."

A twinkle of bright red glimmered in Violet's eyes. "Let's test that theory."

"Let's not." Black Nebula retorted. "Come on, ask like a normal person."

Thatcher, who was blinking her eyes and biting her lip, turned away to gaze at the scenery around her. The various devices on display were suspended from crane-game claws, or were floating on a ray of light. Some were even trapped in glass televisions, or what resembled televisions. The old boxy kind, the very first to ever exist in the history of humanity. To see such a design here was off-putting, but so was everything else in this realm. There were radios, anthropomorphic animal aliens, and now callbacks to the moment Earth changed permanently. Even the translators had slang that Earth used.

Something here was very, very wrong, and now that Thatcher had all the time she could ask for, she could probably find out why.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted a furry, bright blue alien approaching her. It walked on two digitigrade legs, and had four arms. Its middle set of limbs however, didn't have hands, but instead sharp blades, like a praying mantis. It had antennae ending in tufts of fluff, two eyes with white sclera and slit, black pupils. Its head was teardrop-shaped, almost like a knockoff Xenomorph. It had a tail ending in a flower-bud organ, but the purpose of which was unknown to Thatcher.

Once the alien was in grabbing distance, it spoke, the mandibles tucked away in its cheeks gently clicking. "Are you finding everything alright, miss?"

Violet and Black Nebula were debating something, leaving Thatcher to fend for herself. "Um, I was wondering if you sold uh..." what was it called again? She was surprised she managed to forget it this quickly. "A cell... techno? A cellos techno? Am I butchering it? I'm new here."

To her relief, the alien seemed to confirm her request. "I do hope you mean a cellulose techno, because you are in luck. So much luck, we only have three left in stock." It spread its primary arms out. "Follow me, please."

Thatcher nodded eagerly, but before she acted, she tapped Black Nebula on the shoulder. "Hey, they have one."

Black Nebula yelped and flinched, and suddenly, any debate the two were having dissolved. Violet's pupils had dilated, revealing a shifting array of red hues that got darker and deeper towards the center. The three said nothing to each other, silently agreeing to follow the staff member. That's what they did, actually. They were led up a flight of stairs, and to a room labeled 'storage.' It might be a red flag, but this was not a horror movie, or at least it wasn't to Thatcher's knowledge.

"Is there an encyclopedia on the people of this dimension?" She whispered into Violet's ear.

"I'm glad you asked, Thatcher." Violet purred. "There are in fact several, but they don't include every species recorded in history. This is due to feuds, among other things, and history being lost over time."

"That sucks." I suppose it's expected, too. I just got here, but what do I know?

Black Nebula nodded in agreement. "It really does. Lucky for you, you just happen to be the luckiest being in the universe!" She said. "We made our own... by combining all of them. You can look at it when we get back on the ship."

She nodded back, wondering what sort of information dump she'd get from all of this. Knowing herself, she'd understand it in waves, or at least she would once she finally settled down. It wasn't long before the employee came back with a duplicate of Violet's device. Like all smart devices, a lot of things had to be input before it could work correctly. Thanks to Violet and Black Nebula's quick thinking, however, the group managed to swindle the device with minimum information possible. Well, they didn't actually steal it, but whatever Thatcher didn't say was false and fake.

When they finally returned to the ship after a bathroom break, the sky had become a nice orange. Like sunset, like Earth, and home. When Thatcher set her bags by her bed and set out the case of crackers, she did the best thing she could for herself, and got a glass of water. The regulator had formed this strange bubble around her body the moment she took it off. Her lungs hitched at the first breath, and relaxed with the second. Satiating her parched throat with water suddenly made everything a little more tolerable.

"So!" Violet kicked her legs back on the table, minding the spider still trapped in its container. "What did you do before you got here, Thatcher?"

The question made Thatcher exhale rather loudly, more so than she would've. She brought a hand to her face, stroking her chin as she decided the best course of action to take. "Well, it's classified." She said. "But I'm not exactly at home anymore..."

"It can't be that bad. Unless you're a fascist, because then we'd have to kill you." Black Nebula deadpanned.

"No, no! Why the fuck would I be a fascist?" Thatcher blurted. "I'm a scientist, that's all! A scientist who dabbles in the unexpected and foreign entities of Earth... my home world, Earth." She glanced away for a moment. "Actually, part of the reason I got here is because of a stupid portal we found hidden away in a cave. We fixed it up, and we were going to have one of our explorers brave whatever waited on the other side, because obviously we have zero self awareness of how dangerous activating a mysterious portal might be." She explained. "Anyways, I ended up being the one to explore, so there you go."

"I originally thought you just appeared there on Ixcum. Just, like, appeared. Poof, hello, I'm here for no reason and I'm gonna die for no reason. Like all things, everything happens for no reason." Violet commented. "If you wanna know what I do for a living, then say no more, because I will gladly gut you alive!"

"Please please please never do that." Thatcher sniveled.

"No promises, coward!" Violet cackled. "Actually, wait, you're not a coward."

"That's right." Thatcher nodded. "I-"

But Violet threw her arms up, claws extended. "You're a science lady! God, I've always wanted to use this term, and now I can!" She cheered. "Yay! Thank you for being here, science lady!"

Thank you for getting sucked into a portal and becoming stuck in an unfamiliar dimension with zero chance of ever going back. Thank you for being separated from your friends, family, and son forever. Thank you for your tragedy, thought Thatcher as gratitude slowly became resentment. It showed in her fists balling, and her body on the cusp of trembling. Like a kid who ate too much sugar, but instead of feeling hyperactive, felt all bad emotions at once.

"Violet, be nice." Said Black Nebula.

"And since you are enjoying your hospitality with us so much, science lady, I offer you my most prized knowledge!" Violet continued. "Nobody here cares about you, since you're not actually in the system. This means you can do whatever the fuck you want, and can get away with it! You're a cryptid, by all means!"

Thatcher wanted to punch this kid in the face, she really did, but she had enough self control to merely twitch at this. "Thanks..." she muttered. "I do appreciate this, but I'd prefer it if you didn't mock me about it. This is kind of a life-changing thing for me, you know, since I had a really good thing going on before I was fucked over by some old piece of crap technology."

"Oh, no problem!" Violet purred. She stuck her tongue out, and tossed a small green berry into her mouth. Her face scrunched up in displeasure as she chewed. "Nebula, remind me to not get this shit the next time we get groceries."

"You didn't even ask for those, I picked them out." Black Nebula retorted. "Now, hand them over, you lost ownership of them. Unless, Thatcher wanted to try them..."

Thatcher didn't have the stomach to try alien fruits. Not now, at least. She was still working on her first cracker. "No, thanks..." she bit at its edges with her front teeth. "What... what do you do for a living?"

The designated pilot of the ship migrated to the odd countertop in the room. She removed an unknown leafy vegetable from her grocery bag, then the meat Violet purchased. She took out a knife made out of some unknown brown material. She proceeded to dice this plant and the meat with such precision that it almost made Thatcher feel sick. From the wall, a thin slide of metal unfolded, and Black Nebula retrieved a round, pan-like device, which she put on this new slab of metal. Then she poured her diced food onto the pan. It took Thatcher a minute or two to realize this was a futuristic stove, and that Black Nebula was making some kind of stir-fry. It would've been appetizing if it had a scent, which it didn't.

Did she hear me? Thought Thatcher, as she finally finished off this first cracker. "Black Nebula, what do you do?" She repeated.

The smallest of the trio took about three seconds to respond. "Oh, me?" She questioned. "Honestly... just whatever is convenient. I mostly fly this ship from place to place. Sometimes I cook for people. Sometimes I do their dirty work. I don't really have a purpose..."

"Really?" Thatcher inquired. "You don't have anything you really want to do? You haven't studied or majored in anything? At all?"

"Black Nebula has a degree in being a news." Violet commented. "She knows a bunch of obscure stuff that, based on your current trend, won't be able to comprehend for at least three years!"

Black Nebula flinched. "Obscure? Violet, obscure would mean it's not shown on most astrology sites. What I dabble in is this, yes, but also things you can easily look up. Let's say, for instance, the person currently being a bitch on Til. Autopilot, look up whoever is causing delays on the city of Til, planet Silicon."

That same automated voice from earlier played through the speakers. "MATCH FOUND. NAME: SNO'FADE KET'KET'JAT. SPECIES: MAFILI, TYPE HELIUM. OCCUPATION: SILICON NOBLEMAN. SNO'FADE PR-"

"Thank you, you can stop now." Black Nebula briefly put her hand up. "See what I mean? You can get information too easily these days."

"We know that." Violet sneered. "You just look up stuff nobody else would, not in a million years has someone willingly researched the ratio of dust particles to poisoned angels."

...I would. But it wouldn't be whatever a poisoned angel is, it'd be something stupid, like guinea pigs. Or bunny rabbits, Thatcher thought. She went to take a sip, but her glass was empty. "If things can be found so easily and conveniently, then, is there a way for me to get home? Dimensional travel?" Since Humans don't exist here, apparently.

Black Nebula's ears folded back. "I... think, maybe. But we'd need to do extensive research to find your dimension. The only dimension we have all the information on is the Illuminated Reality, which is a whole other catastrophic explosion locked away in a tomb."

"Do I dare ask what the Illuminated Reality is?"

"No."

"Then what about this one? What do you call this dimension?"

Violet butted in before Black Nebula could continue. "The Sporeal Reality! I think it had to do with the ancients thinkin' this lot of galaxies were like grottos of mycelium, or something. I'm not that good with symbolism. Do you have a name for your dimension?"

Thatcher immediately shook her head. She stood up, and sidled to get another glass of water. "No, we don't. Not yet, at least. But I'd think we'd call our dimension Humanity's Reality, or something like that."

"Sounds iconic." Black Nebula murmured. "On the same subject, I believe we have to set a record straight, Violet."

"Oh, right! My brother's agonizing death, all on tape!" Violet cheered.

You both seem more interested in your own endeavors, instead of me, who is very new and not from here. Thatcher finished filling her cup, and decided to leave the room, taking the bin of crackers with her. The regulator hooked on her shirt collar, the conversation got quieter. She entered her new room, and sat against her bed. The bags full of her new clothes hadn't been put away. The two pillows and blanket needed to be set in place. Neither were tasks Thatcher wanted to do.

Pulling out the cellulose techno, it opened to a home screen. It had several applications on it, like messages, calls, videos and photos, the internet with two search engines. She opened a note-taking app, where the first thing she saw was her fake information. A fake email and a fake birthplace in a location called Daucus. When Thatcher input the name in a search engine, she was greeted with an extremely detailed array of pictures, all showing a planet of green life and turquoise waters. The inhabitants of this world were colonists, no designated origin species, most being the aforementioned Nymphs and Juikes...

"Computer, doesn't Violet have a big book of all the species in this dimension?" Thatcher asked, looking up at the ceiling.

The voice of the autopilot came through, but it was a little quieter. "CORRECTION: VIOLET AND BLACK NEBULA COMBINED AND EDITED ENCYCLOPEDIAS OF SPOREAL SPECIES."

"Ok, good." She nodded. "Is there a way for me to access it?"

"YES." It said. "TRANSFERRING DATA NOW..."

In less than a second, a notification popped up on Thatcher's alien phone. She tapped it, and was immediately met with a title, along with several authors. Among them were Violet, Black Nebula, Flare, Yma'Pa, and Futi. She saw little pictures of her companions, and what she presumed the other authors were. Flare was some kind of phoenix, Yma'pa was a collection of sundew-like tendrils, and Futi was an odd, human-like creature with five eyes and fuzzy antennae. Thatcher scrolled down to the table of contents, which was much too large for her to see at once.

Guess I know what I'm doing for the next six hours, she thought. Then it occurred to her. How much time has passed since I woke up? It's felt like a few hours. It should be the middle of the day! I should be up and about! And yet I feel so tired... oh, right, I nearly died and I need the rest anyways.

"Computer, what measurements of time should I be aware of?" She asked again.

"SECOND: SMALL BLIP OF TIME. MINUTE: EQUIVALENT TO SIXTY SECONDS-"

"No, I know those!" She blurted. "Like, the units here in this dimension? Also, how do you know those..? Those are Earth units...?"

The autopilot laughed a soulless laugh. "HA. HA. HA. VIOLET NEGLECTED TO MENTION MY MENTAL INFORMATION GATHERING ABILITY."

"...that is a HUGE invasion of my privacy. Can you not do that?"

"NOTED: DO NOT SCOUR THATCHER'S MEMORY." It deadpanned. "BLIP: EQUIVALENT TO HALF A SECOND. LOVEWARP: EQUIVALENT TO THREE POINT THREE EARTH YEARS. TITANO: EQUIVALENT TO FIVE THOUSAND EARTH YEARS. MAY I CONTINUE?"

"No, this is good for now."

"KEEP IN MIND THAT MANY SPECIES USE TERMS SIMILAR TO THE ONES IN YOUR MEMORIES. REASON: UNKNOWN. THEORY: TRANSLATOR ERROR. TESTING: REQUIRED."

Thatcher's eyelids fluttered. "I see... thank you."

"QUESTION: WHAT IS SADNESS?"

"Sadness?" She croaked. "Um... something that makes you feel... bad? I don't know, I'm not good with this sort of topic."

"QUESTION: ARE YOU EXPERIENCING SADNESS? DATA SUGGESTS DUE TO WATER LEAKING FROM YOUR OPTICS." It pointed out.

"What?"

She brought her fingers to her face, and sure enough, she felt tears. Her face felt warm. Her body was shaking ever so slightly. How long had she been like this? It didn't matter. She put her device off to the side, and pulled her legs towards her chest. She rested her head against her knees. She took in slow, deep breaths.

I can't believe this is happening to me, a lady...