Chapter 3

Michael stepped through the bustling streets of the alien city, his gaze drawn upward as sleek spaceships zipped overhead. The air hummed with foreign scents, and the language spoken around him was a symphony of unfamiliar tones. He had secured some local currency and a communication device, but he was still alone in this unknown world.

"Now what do I do?" Michael asked himself, his heart racing. His surroundings were a chaotic blend of colors, architecture, and species he'd never encountered. The buildings towered like crystalline spires, and holographic signs flickered with cryptic symbols. He needed guidance—something to anchor him.

"Maybe I should find a map," Michael thought, scanning the street for any sign of a store. His eyes fell on a weathered building with a faded sign that read "Repairs." Desperation drove him inside.

"Uhm, excuse me," Michael addressed the engineers huddled near the entrance. "I'm looking for a place that sells maps or navigation devices."

"Can't you read, kid?" grumbled one of the engineers, pointing to a sign that indeed indicated this was a repair shop. "This place is for fixing stuff."

"I can see that, I'm just looking for directions?" Michael reiterated, the engineers skin turned green as he was annoyed at Michael's persistence. "What's with all the noise? Can't you see I'm resting, you old bag?" An old lady appeared smacking the engineer on the head causing his skin to flicker a myriad of colours.

"Haa! You gotta love polymorphs and how slappable they are," cackled a rambunctious old granny with crimson crystal-like skin as she waltzed in. She smacked the old man from behind, silencing his complaints.

"I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with the old geezer," the granny snarked. "I can sell you what you're looking for, kid."

The old man grumbled, but Michael's eyes widened. "You see, I'm new to the city," he explained, his voice tinged with innocence. "I have a bad habit of getting lost. So that's why I need a navigation device."

"And who asked you for your whole life story?" the old man shrugged, nursing his pride.

"Have a heart, you old bastard," the granny slapped him again. "If that's your situation, then I've got just the thing." She rummaged through cluttered shelves, producing a half-spherical device that looked like a steel ball cut in half. "Stick this flat part on your belt, and you'll never lose it," she instructed, placing it in Michael's hand.

"How do I use it?" Michael asked, examining the device.

"Don't worry," the granny said. "Just press the top, and it'll turn on. You'll get used to the interface as you use it."

"Thank you," Michael bowed, grateful for this unexpected encounter.

"How much is it?" he inquired.

"Just give me 1000 credits," the granny settled, and Michael transferred the money. Now equipped with his peculiar navigation device, he was ready to navigate this alien world.

As the day surrendered to twilight, three moons rose, casting a silver glow over the alien city. Michael, weary from his interstellar escapades, found solace in a quaint hotel room. "Huh, I'm exhausted," he sighed, the softness of the bed embracing him. "I gotta find a way back home," he whispered to the silent room, his thoughts drifting as he fell asleep.

Dawn's light crept through the curtains, heralding a new day in the foreign world. Michael awoke with determination, his mind set on mastering the newly discovered powers that had become both his curse and his salvation. "Haaa! Fuwaaa! Hyaapp," he moaned, contorting into positions he hoped would unlock his abilities. "This is not working," he lamented, frustration mounting. "Maybe if I focus and think about home, like they do in the movies, maybe that'll work."

With renewed resolve, Michael centered his thoughts on Terra, his eyes shimmering with the colors of home. The room fell silent, the air thick with anticipation. He was on the cusp of breakthrough when the doorbell chimed. "Just when I made progress," he groaned, his voice tinged with despair.

"Your breakfast is here," announced the hostess cheerfully, oblivious to Michael's inner turmoil. As he reached for the tray, laden with the hotel's most famous dish, his fingers brushed against the metal—and he vanished.

The hostess stood, bewildered, the tray now unclaimed. With a shrug to what she just witnessed, she claimed the meal as her own, leaving the room with one less mystery to ponder.

"Great, where am I now?" Michael grumbled, his body sinking into a substance softer than any bed he'd known. "A cloud?" he surmised, taking in the fluffy expanse around him. He was in a house, a dwelling crafted from clouds themselves.

"My coffee table!" exclaimed a cloud person, descending the stairs with a look of dismay. "I just bought that!"

"Uhhh, sorry," Michael stammered, his apology cut short by the cloud person's growing ire, lightning crackling through his body. "Sorry is not gonna cut it, pal!"

Michael fell through the cloud floor, his pleas lost in the airy abyss. "My floor! Don't let me run into you again, you land dweller!" the cloud person's voice echoed as Michael plummeted.

"Come on, focus," Michael urged himself, the wind rushing past him as he fell. He closed his eyes, envisioning his room, his bed, the familiar posters on the wall. The doorbell's ring persisted in his mind, but he pushed it aside, concentrating on the image of home.

Then, with a sudden jolt, he reappeared in his room, the impact causing the space to shudder and his bed to collapse. "Finally, I'm back," Michael breathed out, relief washing over him as he lay amidst the wreckage of his once-sturdy bed.

Michael rose from the remnants of his bed, his limbs heavy with fatigue. The soft buzz of his phone broke the silence of the room. It had been there all along, a silent witness to his otherworldly journey. As he scrolled through the notifications, a dim light caught his eye. Navi, the navigation device he had acquired in the alien city, flickered to life.

"Unable to connect to server. Insufficient data on current location. Turning on Independent mode. Storing all map data and initiating map creation mode," the device intoned with a robotic precision. Michael couldn't help but smirk. "So even in a different universe, this thing can still map out my surroundings. Well, this will be real useful," he mused, slipping the device back into his pocket.

A new alert flashed on his phone. "I'm outside," a message from Trent, Michael's friend. Michael's heart skipped a beat. He had to check the date. To his relief, the time he had spent traversing other worlds had not disrupted the flow of time here on Terra.

As he opened the door, Trent's eyes widened at the sight of Michael's attire—the clothes Michael bought as a momento of his travel. "Bro, what's with your weird clothes?" Trent asked, a mix of amusement and confusion in his voice.

"What, don't like my drip?" Michael retorted, defending his taste for the clothes he bought.

"Whatever, man. Where were you? Ever since you left school early, I couldn't contact you. Now it's Sunday," Trent pressed, his concern evident.

"So?" Michael replied, his tone nonchalant as he concealed the truth of his newfound powers.

Trent's frustration was palpable as he was worried. "That's all you have to say?" But he let the matter drop, understanding that some secrets were kept even between friends.

"Anyway, today we're playing at your house, remember?" Trent shifted the topic, the tension dissipating as quickly as it had arisen.

"I almost forgot about that, sure come in," Michael said, masking his inner turmoil about his new found powers with a welcoming smile. "Can you give me a hand since you're here?"

Trent, ever the loyal friend, nodded. "What's up?" he asked, following Michael into the chaos of his room.

The sight of the broken bed left Trent speechless. "I don't even know what to ask," he said, his eyes wide with shock.

Michael chuckled, the sound light and carefree. "Come on, as long as we throw out the base, it should be fine right?."

Together, they set to work, clearing the debris and restoring order to the room. As they took a moment to rest on the sofa, Trent mentioned his mother's invitation. "Oh, right. I almost forgot. My mom said you can join us for dinner since your sister isn't here to cook."

Michael hesitated, his gaze drifting to the fridge stocked with prepared meals. "It's okay, there's a bunch of prepared food in the fridge. It should last the whole week," he replied.

Trent wouldn't have it. "Come on, dude. You can't just eat refrigerated foods all week."

Conceded, Michael agreed to change out of his alien attire. As he did, Trent's curiosity was piqued by the peculiar device in Michael's pocket. "What is that?" he pointed to Navi.

"Huh? Oh, this. Pretty cool, right?" Michael responded, a hint of pride in his voice as he tucked the device away.

"Dude, that thing makes your pockets bulge all creepy-like," Trent laughed, the mood lightening as they headed to his family's apartment.

Upon arrival, Trent announced Michael's presence. "Michael said he'll join us,"he called out.

Trent's mother emerged from the kitchen, pleased. "Oh, really? Good. It's not healthy to eat refrigerated foods all week."

The familial warmth enveloped Michael as Trent's younger brother tugged at his pants, asking if he'd be staying the night. "I can't this time, I'm on guard duty" Michael replied. The conversation flowed, touching all the way to the sitting room where Trent's father and elder brother sat "So Njabulo's gone for the week?" Trent's elder brother asked "Yeah that's right" Michael confirmed.

"Lucky" Trent's brother murmured triggering his father next to him, "Maybe you'll also find some luck if you went out and touched some grass" his father grumbled leading them to start bickering as Trent's older brother defended himself, Michael and Trent exchanged a knowing look. Some things, like family squabbles, were universal constants.

In the comfort of Trent's home, Michael found a sense of normalcy amidst the extraordinary.