McGill’s

“Well if it isn’t my favorite asshole!”

Manny threw his towel down and reached below the bar. He popped back up holding a fresh Milson Light over his head. Smoke scattered in his wake.

“If it isn’t the bartender closest to my home.” Mark sat at the stool in front of the taps of the long oak bar and accepted the bottle. The pride of McGill’s—it was over two hundred years old. Legend has it that Seamus McGill floated to shore on this piece of wood after anti-Irish mobs set their ship ablaze in the harbor.

None of it had ever been proven—but having a giant old piece of wood was enough for the family.

Mark tapped a finger on the bar next to his beer. The lights were dim as always, casting a sepia tone over the hole-in-the-wall bar.

“Hold your horses there, buddy. Some of us work for a living.” Manny spun around and grabbed the bottle of Tullamore Dew. He took a glass with his other hand and dipped it in the ice. Placing the glass on the counter, he filled it just above the ice, then passed it to Mark and picked up another, holding it over his eye.

“Hey, look! I’ve got my own telescope now! Maybe I can see some space aliens?”

Mark looked down at his drink, frowning. “You know that’s unsanitary, right?”

“Yeah, Mr. McGill made us take a class about it—” Manny shook his head, “—but if I don’t dip them in the ice, how are they going to get washed?”

Mark took a swig. “You only live once.”

“Really, though, you think there’s intelligent life out there?” Manny pointed to the sky and feigned awe.

“I’ve yet to be convinced there’s intelligent life here.”

“The question is—would you grant them a license to land, or deny their application due to unregulated alien vehicles?”

Tonight he didn’t want to think about the Office of Licensing and Inspections. No forms to check. No approvals to get. Red tape maneuvering. He didn’t want to think about work.

“I’m just a guy doing a job, Manny.” He brushed his hair back. A job he was supposed to quit. He could just never seem to find the right form. Was it a TX-4432? Or was it a 5?

“No offense, Mark, but I think you could get more fulfillment being a mailman—and you’d probably be more well-liked.”

He wasn’t wrong. The only people who even pretended to like him were the rich guys who thought they could buy their licenses. The thought appalled him. There were plenty of hands to grease in the city—he kept his hands clean. A proper bureaucrat.

Mark rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna hit the head. Don’t spit in my drink.”

“I spit in everything ahead of time so you don’t have to wait.”

Mark chuckled as he walked the length of the bar, nodding his head to Eugene, the de facto owner of the last stool.

“How’s it, Eugene?” Mark saluted him.

“Bite me, pig.” Eugene looked at him suspiciously. His tattooed hands never left his beer.

“I told you, I’m not a cop, Eugene. Unless you need a permit to open a head shop, you’ll have no trouble with me.” Mark held his hands up peacefully.

“You think I never heard that one before, man?” He faced the bar and mimed zipping his lips.

The truth was Mark would give up his job in a heartbeat—if he could do what he loved.

Finding and meeting alien life wasn’t exactly a job you found on a career website.

But he read and watched everything he could. Spent every dollar he could on the best telescopes available to him. Nothing but dots of light in a sea of black.

The bar ended in a small cluster of four round tables, empty except for one.

He’d never seen him before. That wasn’t entirely uncommon, but it wasn’t exactly usual either. McGill’s did not go out of its way to be inviting.

Dressed in a well-fitting brown suit. White shirt unbuttoned. His thin face looked puzzled. The thin gray hair horseshoeing his head gave him a grandfatherly look. The furrowed brow screamed worry. His blue eyes darted back and forth.

“No, no. That’s just too far. Nobody can—” he mumbled low. Mark would never have heard it if he wasn’t right next to him.

He felt drawn to the old man, concerned as if it was his own grandfather.

“Hey, pop, you okay? You need some help getting home or something?”

“No, I—” His eyes stopped darting and looked right at him. “Do I know you?”

“No, I don’t think so, sir—”

“You’re Mark, aren’t you?” He seemed calmer now, more lucid.

Mark remembered his grandfather, in and out of lucidity. Living the memories his brain would let him have sparingly.

“I am. I guess you heard Manny.”

“He called you an asshole.”

“Yeah, it’s a term of endearment, really.”

“Could we talk for a moment, Mark?”

This was not something he wanted to do. He wanted to go finish his drink—and several more—and go home.

“Sure. I don’t see why not.” The words came tumbling out like a hiccup. Almost involuntary. Something about the way the man said his name. Like whatever he had to say, everything would be fine.

“Oh, good.” He turned in his chair to face the table and motioned Mark to sit across from him. As he sat down, Mark watched the old man’s eyes flash orange. Upon second viewing, they were blue again.

“Whiskey sure is strong tonight,” he said.

“I’m Solarrp Tallomund, Infection Specialist number 21649—for security purposes, please know this line is being recorded.”

“Wait, what? Solar—what?”

“Solarrp Tallomund. Infection Specialist number 21649. Registered and licensed by the Vargonian Hegemony. Long Live the Empire.” The old man pounded his chest.

“Are you sure you don’t need some help?” He wanted to get up and leave. He couldn’t. He felt like a ghost inside himself. He could feel his muscles straining, but to the casual observer he was perfectly still.

“I do require help—but we’ll get to that. Now that I’ve administered the monitoring virus, you can just relax.” The man said this assuredly.

He definitely didn’t feel relaxed—but he had no urge to move.

“Who—what is—who are you? Solarrp? What is this about?!”

“We are the Great Vargonian Hegemony. The Vargonian Empire encompasses three million planets in what you call the Milky Way—as well as several dozen other galaxies.”

“Okay—I really think I’ve heard enough. Is there someone I can call for you?” He thought he stood up. He was still sitting.

“You could call your father. Clark? And your mother—Susan?”

“How do you—”

“Oh, splendid. We have a full connection. Anyway, let me finish the onboarding.”

“Are you trying to tell me you’re an alien?”

“I would prefer immigrant—but after the invasion is complete, we’ll technically be the owners of it all—so if alien makes you feel more comfortable—”

“Oh, okay. Sure. If you’re an alien, how’d you get here? How’d you travel millions of miles? Quantum physics? Relativity? Huh?”

“We didn’t.”

That stopped Mark’s line of debunking in its tracks.

“You’ve desired to meet extraterrestrial life for quite some time now, yes?”

“Yeah, ever since I was—” He would have known this answer minutes ago. He must have said it a million times when asked.

“Your planet has spent a lot of time searching for life, yes? And what is one of the major ways they do that?” Solarrp leaned in.

“Well, there’s telescopes mainly, and then—” Mark was cut off.

“Radio waves!” Solarrp clapped his hands excitedly.

“Radio waves?”

“Isn’t it genius?! Biochemical and Neurological Radio Transmission—BNRT, for short.”

“Biochem—what does all that mean?”

“We’re using radio frequencies to distribute neurological signals to your brain that simultaneously rewrite your memory and change your biological makeup.”

“Who put you up to this? Manny?”

“The Supreme Commander of the Vargonian Empire.” The man held his hand up as if swearing an oath.

“You can imagine how this all might be a bit difficult to believe?” He still didn’t understand why he was just sitting here. His limbs didn’t feel restrained. There was no weight counteracting his ability to stand up.

“Quite so! That’s why we’re starting with people such as yourself.”

“What’s that mean? People such as myself?”

“Believers, Mark.” The man’s gaze became softer. “You’ve wanted to meet us. Well, here we are!”

“Now I know this is bullshit. Where’s the camera?”

“Right, right. Only deal in facts and data. Very smart. Very smart.” He shook his head. “You’ve obviously noticed your inability to move?”

“Not particularly uncommon in this type of establishment.”

“Quite so. Have you also noticed you haven’t been breathing?”

Mark certainly wasn’t until he said that. Now he couldn’t think of anything else. It was a strange feeling.

Solarrp continued. “Why don’t you go have a drink?”

“That may be the cause of all my problems here—” Mark looked at him, unsure.

“Go ahead. I’ll be right here when you get back.”

Mark pushed up from the table slowly. His body responded to orders finally. As he turned, he felt what seemed like a small push against him. The air around him began to wobble like he was walking through fluid.

Then, instantly, he was standing in front of his stool at the bar.

“I spit in everything ahead of time so you don’t have to wait,” Manny said.

Mark stared. Motionless. Mouth agape, afraid to move.

“What’s your problem?” Manny asked, looking at him worriedly.

“I…uh—” He turned his head. As quickly as he appeared in front of the bar, he was back sitting. The man was smiling at him. Two drinks sat between them. “What the—”

“Sorry about that. Little disorienting, I know.”

“What happened?”

“I released the monitoring protocol. You were momentarily back in real time.”

“Real time?”

“Yes, Mark, this conversation is happening in fractions of a second!”

“That’s not possible!”

“It’s a lot to absorb, but the gist is, we’re connected via the brain on a radio wave traveling faster than light.”

“But I was—somewhere I’d been before?” The memory was hazy.

“Traveling like this makes time a little wobbly.” Solarrp wobbled his hand back and forth.

“A little wobbly!?”

“You’re upset? Do you know how much unpaid overtime the company can trick you into with time dilation?”

“Yeah, that sounds awful.” Mark was still confused. He didn’t sense that would change much. “How come you can move?”

“Non-corporeal beings do not feel the effects as strongly as solids. That’s why we have to fully download to—as you say—stretch our legs.”

“You downloaded—to this old man?”

“Yes. Now that we’ve made a proper connection—and I’ve properly prepared the vessel—a new consciousness will download into you.”

“This is murder!”

“Not by the intergalactic charter—we admit it’s a bit of a loophole—but you gotta use everything you have these days, right?”

“Wha—this! You ca! Dammit!!” He was jumbled. Like all this new information was jamming into spaces in his head and working its way around.

“So, tell me again about your father.”

“My father—” He mulled this over in his head.

What about his father?

“What was his name?”

“What does this have to do with my father’s name?” He suddenly realized he couldn’t bring it to his mind. He scratched and scratched at his memory, looking for it.

“I…can’t seem to—”

“Splendid!” The alien clapped. “We’re off to a great start.”

Mark’s brain was screaming. With all other senses stifled, he was just neurons firing.

“Oh, please don’t worry. That’s actually all in your head. Let us continue.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Well, I’d have to check with my supervisor, but—” He paused for a moment and closed his eyes. They opened quickly but were now dark black. “Hello, this is Antar Nislo, Supervisor number 56412. With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

“This is, uh…Mark.”

“Hello, Mark, how can I help you today?”

“I was just telling Solarrp—I, ah…don’t want to do this.”

“I see, I see.” The old man nodded patiently. His eyes closed again for a moment. “Well, I reviewed your case and unfortunately you did agree. Per company policy, once official acceptance is given, the viral transmission cannot be reversed.”

“What the hell are you talking about?! I never agreed to anything! Certainly not to be given any virus.”

“Oh dear. This is a very serious charge. Are you saying Specialist Solarrp is conducting an unauthorized onboarding?”

“Well, I don’t—I guess—yeah. Yes. It’s very much unauthorized.”

The eyes changed quickly back to blue.

“I absolutely refute that! I have followed protocol to the letter, sir!”

Now black again.

“Solarrp, professionalism, please! Sorry about that. I’ve just reviewed your complaint—unfortunately, Mark, it does appear you agreed to the onboarding process.”

Solarrp/Antar opened his mouth and left it that way. A recording began to play.

“Could we talk for a moment, Mark?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not.”

The man’s face returned to normal and he spoke again. “So you see there. Everything is completely above board. Thank you for choosing the Vargonian Hegemony. We know you have a lot of choices when it comes to intergalactic conquerors, and we thank you for choosing us.”

Just like that, the eyes returned to blue. Solarrp’s mouth curled into a satisfying smile.

“I want you to know that I value your criticism. I’m always trying to improve.” He held his hands over his heart. “Now, with that unpleasantness aside. Let us continue. Please tell me your mother’s name.”

“Wait a minute. That’s it? No—”

“Mother’s name, please.”

“I—” Mark picked at his brain. Nothing was coming up. “What is going on here?! What are you doing to me?!”

“Okay, looks like we’re back on schedule.”

“On schedule for what?!” Mark screamed in place.

“Yes, well. You work for the Department of Licensing and Inspections—very commendable, Mark.”

“How do you know that I work for—er—wait. I got it—shit! What are you doing to me?”

“That’s just the onboarding process. A bit unpleasant, but it’s important. Can’t have two consciousnesses in one head, can we?”

“You’re taking my consciousness?!”

“Overwriting it, actually.” He smiled. “It will be quite beautiful, though. You’ll transition to pure energy.”

“Then what about huma—hu—people? What about people?” He was fumbling easy words now.

“As I said, you’re being overwritten. A completely painless operation. We’ve won ‘Most Benevolent Conquerors’ three giga-cycles in a row.”

“You can’t possibly do this.” Mark said. “I can’t do this—I can’t—I can’t remember my—”

“We have all the proper permits, sir. You will find a new name among the stars.”

“Why?”

“It’s just business, Mark.”

“Please?”

The room began to sink below him as the ceiling approached his head. Mark’s stomach lurched, the taste of whiskey burning up his throat. He had the urge to cover his face but passed right through it. He picked up speed and rocketed through the sky on a trajectory with space. It was then that he noticed he didn’t have a body.

The air hummed all around him—he was traveling as a frequency. Faster and faster, everything started to fly past him in a blur. The only constant—the darkness of space—outlined every color around him. Faster still, until he was streaks of white light stretching a great distance. He could touch both endpoints at the same time, feeling the endless expanse between them.

No person was meant to absorb this. To see firsthand just how small and insignificant they were to the powers of the universe.

He was stretched so thin that pieces of him broke apart and fell away. Information lost to him but not to the cosmic mechanism. He didn’t need it anymore. He was the stars. He was the space in between them. He was the net around them, keeping them from falling apart.

He was where he always wanted to be.

***

Solarrp stood up from the table and placed a long-brimmed hat on his head. He put his hand gently on Mark’s shoulder and nodded as he walked away. He tipped his hat to Eugene as he made his way to the exit.

Eugene muttered under his breath, “Friggin narc.”

He turned to Manny. “Welp, time for a piss!”

“Thanks for announcing, Eugene. Let me know what color when you get back.” Manny was switching channels on the TV.

Eugene took what control he had left of his old limbs and turned to walk to the bathroom. Time for a quick puff.

Mark was sitting strangely at the table in the corner. When did he walk over there? Eugene thought to himself. He heard Mark mumbling as he started his ungainly trip.

“No, no. That’s just too far. Nobody can—”

Eugene walked over to the young man and patted him on the back. “Yo, five-oh! You okay? You look lost.”

“No, I—” His eyes stopped darting and looked right at him. “Do I know you?”