Terrarium

Michael crawled out of bed, reluctantly molting the warm, soothing membrane of sleep that had held him tight all night long. He scowled at the thick fog that submerged his house outside the bedroom window. It actually looked yellow today.

How was that possible?

The mind is confused and confusing in the early hours. It changes agendas faster than Michael changes out of his pajamas and robe. He turned away from the window with a shrug and shuffled in the direction of food and coffee.

After his first sip of the black juice, Michael forgot to enjoy the rest of the mug. He let himself get too distracted, peering through a narrow, two-by-five inch window. In it, he saw things happening elsewhere and people happily sharing their cynical opinions on those happenings.

With breakfast out of the way, Michael could go into another part of his house where he had a larger window that he liked to look through. Sitting in front of it, he caught up on messages sent to him since yesterday—it was the weekend so there weren’t that many. Fortunately, the number of distractions at his fingertips were infinite and Michael quickly found plenty more to keep his brain narcotized with.

After an hour, he did take a break to look in the fridge, but closed the door without taking anything out. 

From the kitchen, Michael again noticed the yellow fog outside the house.

Is it a weird effect from the sun? 

That didn’t seem likely at this hour when the solar globe must have been well on its way toward the zenith. 

All Michael could do was snort at it and return to the other room where his distractions waited for him patiently inside the magical screen. He ravenously absorbed it all—interesting, amusing, fascinating, absurd—the genre didn’t matter so long as the data kept pouring in through eyes translucent with hunger. As long as the intravenous tube hangs unkinked and permits all the news, current events, funny video clips, posts, and pictures to trickle through, the symptoms (or demons) of boredom and existential angst may yet be kept at bay…

On a Saturday, it was easy to stay there until the next meal, find something else to amuse himself with after, and not do much of anything all day.

He could do the same tomorrow—why not?

A strange creature, thought those observing him through a special device that could peer through walls. They fidgeted with it whenever their subject moved around inside his dwelling. It took a while to calibrate the contraption: a hedgehog-like ball bristling with telescopic tubes. 

In the middle of the previous night, a massive chunk of dirt, grass, pavement, and house had been dug up and lifted out of the ground. Unsuspecting, the bipedal creature slumbered soundly while his home, driveway, and yard floated up toward the stars and into a vast terrarium. In the black, unlit space, there had been enough time to covertly connect the electricity and data signal that the humanoid was terribly addicted and reliant upon. 

A harmless, yellow gas was pumped into the terrarium. The cover that this haze provided was the best way to keep the new pet from discovering his fate for now—a shock that could be too much for some. It was best to ease them into it.

All those present in the room huddled around the viewing tubes, excited into silence. To arrive at this fascinating world they had undertaken quite a journey—bending space and time, crossing galaxies, sailing through barren black voids thousands of parsecs deep, languishing for twenty-some years in the dull misery of the Bayda Gas Clouds, fighting off the Dream Pirates of the Spatula Sector, and hardening their sulls near the Wafting Leers (not the crop field variety). All that to arrive at a blue sphere that teemed with fascinating life. Now, the much-anticipated research on one sample of the resident humanoids could begin.

What exciting things would this creature do? He hadn’t done much so far. And what exactly was a “three-day weekend?”