How Ziggy Became a Statue on Venice 626

   𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈 𝙏𝙃𝘼𝙏 𝙋𝙊𝙄𝙉𝙏 𝙊𝙉, Al was on his own.

   How do you tell a rather… hyper… Space-Equivalent-to-an-Irishman just to trust you?

   No clue, and I've been living with him for about a month now. Our odd arrangement started in that T.J. Eliot's that I mentioned.

   We hid between the racks of tacky faux-fur coats and chic pleather jackets - ones that I was half-tempted to buy - as the robots passed by the store. "Why are they even after you?" I hissed as we tried to act natural... Of course, acting natural included me pulling him through the racks of Bohemian style dresses.

   The T.J. Eliot's felt empty and cluttered at the same time. Where most stores had people straining to hear the music playing through the speakers, here it felt like it blared through the speakers. The lights flickered between too dim and too bright. The world suddenly felt dull.

   "Principle of the thing, I suppose," his voice caught me off guard. "I travel the universe through the fifth dimension after all, I'm bound to anger quite a few fellows. Especially ones with access to the Astrobots."

   "What are Astrobots?" I asked absent-mindedly.

   At eighteen and a desperate want to escape the role I found myself forced into because I was so happy with being myself, I found it easier to believe. Here in the Cineverse, anything was truly possible, so I didn't discount anything. Especially when I wanted it to be real - but I guess that's just me.

   Looking back, I wondered why I didn't react to the shrieks of people when the glass windows shattered and the Astrobots entered the scene. Instead, my mind went blank and my eyes glazed over. Violent shaking of my arms meant to act as "Snap Out Of It" turned out to have zero effectiveness. "They are deadly advanced robots who are shooting at us right bloody now! Get down!"

   (The push to the ground snapped me out of it.)

   "Wait," I found myself saying as I rolled out of the path of a falling clothes rack. "They're electronic?"

   "OBVIOUSLY!"

   "Then why not just hack them?"

   "Because the programming is done in such away where I can only override their purpose! If I don't have a purpose for them, then what is the point?"

   I rolled my eyes. Granted, no retort fell from my lips. Instead, we waited behind a concrete wall. Everything returned to silence. It was then I heard something I never did prior. The footfalls of the Astrobots contained rhythm.

   Not one of a song, no, but it was something I recognized. The stomps seemed to bang out the rhythm of the Soldiers from Oz. 𝘖𝘩-𝘸𝘦-𝘰𝘩, 𝘰𝘩-𝘸𝘦𝘦-𝘰𝘩. 𝘖𝘩-𝘸𝘦-𝘰𝘩, 𝘰𝘩-𝘸𝘦𝘦-𝘰𝘩.

   It repeated.

   Again and again, it repeated.

   Instead of a song, it was a chant… but chants? Chants could be worked with.

   After all, people loved robotic street performers. A plotting grin graced my face.

   "Hey, Stranger," I whispered.

   "What?" He replied impatiently.

   "I think I got your purpose."

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   "𝙏𝙊 𝙀𝙑𝙀𝙉 𝙃𝘼𝙑𝙀 𝘼 𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙏 𝘼𝙏 𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙎," Alistar said as we rounded the corner to the burning bookshop that once funded my caffeine addiction. "We need some extremely strong connection."

   "So what are we doing here?" I asked him.

   "Come with me." He pulled me along and into his truck that said "Crowley's Cakes". I was expecting an oven, a stove, and perhaps a tiny freezer (and definitely a coffee machine). What I witnessed? What I witnessed was -

   "Welcome home, Alistar," a disembodied female voice said primly as we walked into what resembled a shore-inspired foyer.

   I moved with the same amount of jerky speed when jolted by electricity.

   (Shock and I have a love-hate relationship.)

   "Thank you, Ma'am. Please make our guest at home."

   "Of course, Alistar," the voice said again. "Are you requiring anything else?"

   I followed dumbly behind Alistar as he spoke to air and it replied. "Yes, I need a computer."

   "On it, Sir, and, Miss, do you require anything?"

   "Coffee?" I replied. I cringed at the sound of my own voice in my ears. A while ago, somewhere between buying Bohemian dresses and my immediate resignation via explosion, I lost hope that I'd sound like I knew what was going on. Mainly because, and say it with me, no one ever suspects the Alien Inquisition! - haha, no.

   Seriously though, I never expected aliens. And, of course, once the metaphorical shit hit the metaphorical fan, I knew I'd know nothing... but at least I went with the flow enough not to sound like an embarrassed anime school girl.

   Talking to a dismembered voice in a very odd very non-physics abiding food truck?

   I began to sound like an embarrassed anime school girl.

   (Insert cringe here.)

   "Of course, Miss," the disembodied voice sounded as if she nodded her head then went silent.

   After five minutes of silence, I turned to my companion and cleared my throat. "So, you're name is Alister?" I asked him.

   I needed to make conversations. Silence grated on my nerves and all I was doing was following an Irish-sounding guy through his obviously not-food truck. "Alistar Crowley," he corrected me with adding a long a sound. However, he did it so curtly that I barely noticed.

   "Alright then Al," I said while holding out my hand for a handshake. "My name is Venice Starburst, but you can call me Ziggy. Everyone does."

   "Pleasure to meet you, Ziggy," Alistar told me. "Please, follow me."

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   "𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙒𝘼𝙉𝙏 𝙈𝙀 𝙏𝙊 𝙏𝙐𝙍𝙉 𝙃𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙇𝙔 𝘼𝘿𝙑𝘼𝙉𝘾𝙀𝘿 𝙆𝙄𝙇𝙇𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙈𝘼𝘾𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙀𝙎 𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙊 𝙎𝙏𝙍𝙀𝙀𝙏 𝙋𝙀𝙍𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙈𝙀𝙍𝙎?" Alistar blinked at me a few times before I watched his glasses slowly slide down the bridge of his nose. I shrugged and sipped my coffee.

   "They are already programmed with innate rhythm and to follow a specific leader, correct?"

   "Yes, but seriously?"

   "Framework is there, Bucko." I pointed to the screen and sipped on. It tasted nice, the coffee. It tasted sweet enough not to be bitter and not to be sickly at the same time. The smell of vanilla filled my lungs and I found myself longing for simpler times before my fifteenth birthday. "Hey, uh Miss Automaton," I called awkwardly and quietly.

   "Yes, Miss Starburst?"

   "Nicely done on the coffee… and call me Ziggy. Everyone does."

   "I have filed that name away for further use, Ziggy. And thank you, Alistar never compliments my cooking."

   (I think I heard minor resentment in that. Am I the only one? Okay.)

   "So, I hack their systems and reprogram them into being street perfomers and then what? We need to be within a twenty foot radius for something that large to be successful."

   "We use you as bait, obviously," the disembodied voice replied dryly.

   "That might actually work," I piped up. Alistar's eyes turned into saucers. "What? Think about it, it's a cat and mouse game in which you are masquerading as the mouse but are actually the cat."

   "THAT MAKES NO BLOODY SENSE!"

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   𝙄 𝙁𝙀𝙇𝙏 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙇𝘿 𝙎𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙊𝙁 𝙈𝙀𝙏𝘼𝙇 𝙄𝙉 𝙈𝙔 𝙃𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙎 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙂𝙇𝘼𝙉𝘾𝙀𝘿 𝙐𝙋 𝘼𝙏 𝘼𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙍. "Keep it set at level three the whole time," he instructed. "And do not pull the trigger until I say, got it?"

   I gave him a firm salute and held back a giggle. It felt as if we prepared for battle and now it was the moment of truth. Now, we rode forth to save the tiny number of insignificant people in this world who I even remotely cared for… and humanity. Because, for as idiotic as the species is, there are at least one percent of truly good people in the world so that was enough for me.

   "I'll lure them out, when they surround me-"

   "Pull the trigger, it will stun them long enough for you to hack the system. I know."

   His lips quirked ever-so-slightly upward and I beamed. I got the Irishman to smile, look at that.

   We exited the spaceship and went our sperate ways. I hid behind the Crowley's Cakes truck and Alistar sauntered calmly into the raging wall of fire that licked the sky each time a breeze hit it. I took the time to examine my gun. It had five different settings for what it could do, turning the dial would switch it, as well as five different levels of strength, sliding the nob would increase or decrease the pack of the punch.

   The gun itself was small enough to use in one hand despite the bubbly design. Pink and black and hearts decorating all around the weapon, it gave off an 80s anime vibe over anything else…

   (Ask me around anyone and I'd say I love it. Ask me alone and I'd tell you I already decided to take it with me when this was all over.)

   "NOW!"

   That was my cue! Pointing the gun towards Al and his surrounding Astrobots, I pulled the trigger. The shock wave that it emitted moved me a few inches from my spot. It wasn't until I looked around that I saw what that blast truly did. Almost any electronic within a mile radius was out. The street lamps, the T.V.s in the sports bars, the traffic lights - they were all off.

   Pulling out his tablet, the Irishman got to work. Ten minutes later, the Astrobots came back online and it was time to see if it worked.

   The troop looked at each other and, suddenly, music started to play as they began to dance. Alistar sent me a look of triumphant glee to which I replied with a thumbs up.

   "You know," Alistar began when we were safely inside his ship. "You ended up being quite the help today. You see, if you'd like, I really wouldn't mind having you tag along. We could go anywhere! The universe is ours for the takin'… if you're willing."

   "Are you serious?" I asked him. My eyes blinked owlishly as my mind physically short circuited.

   "I never say things I don't mean."

   And that was the start of a beautiful friendship...

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   "𝙃𝙀𝙔, 𝘼𝙇," my teeth chattered with the cold breeze cutting right through me. Suddenly, I found myself in a small cove bathed in moonlight and the weird iridescent purple water of Venice 626.

   "Yes, Ziggy?" My friend replied with concern lacing his voice.

   "How'd we end up here? I thought we were facing the Gorgon?"

   "That is a story for another time, Ziggy Starburst."