Part 3 of some new science fiction. If you're just tuning in, consider starting with part 1. The image above was created with stable diffusion using the chapter title.
Following instructions, James spent the next few days playing with alien puzzle blocks and verbally responding to a seemingly random assortment of popular news shows. He ate the Servant's food and drank its beverages, finding them only the slightest bit different from the fare he was used to. On day four, waking up in his exceptionally comfortable recliner, James found himself feeling exceptionally anxious about his life; about what was happening in his absence.
"Coleer!" he called. "Thubu! I need to see what's going on outside. Are you there?"
Appearing a minute later, with a smile that put James more at ease, Coleer entered the room. "We can show you whatever you'd like to see," she said. "Your house is boarded up and surrounded by soldiers. They've taken all of your belongings to a warehouse south of the city. Your mother appeared on a cable news show this morning. Would you like me to pull up the data?"
Taking this all in, James felt a pang of guilt. "Show me the show," he said. "And then, would it maybe be possible for me to call my mom?"
The show, an episode of Hard Line with Meadow Roots, was the weirdest thing James had ever seen. It described him as a hard-working custodian snatched from his life by the alien occupation, despite the best efforts of heroic soldiers who tried to stop his abduction. James' mom spoke tearfully of his childhood love of fire trucks. Meadow Roots did a monologue appealing to the visitors. She asked that they let James go and accept the government's offer to enter into formal diplomatic talks.
"Oh my god," said James when it was over. "Yeah, I totally need to call my parents."
"Would a recorded video statement suffice?" asked Coleer. "We'd strongly prefer you not engage in conversation with outside parties for the duration of the exercise."
"I guess," said James. "If that's the best you can do. I'm also wondering why the Army took all of my stuff. And like, what happens when I leave? Did you totally ruin my life?"
"Your government is currently arguing about whether you're a hostage or a collaborator," said Coleer. "They're examining your life, including your belongings, in an attempt to settle that question."
"What happens to me when we're done if they decide I'm a collaborator?" asked James.
"To the greatest extent possible, that will be up to you," said Coleer. "Now, do you want to record your message so we can get back on track?"
"Okay, but I have more questions," said James. "Being surrounded by your technology, using the Servant, I'm wondering why you even needed to land your ship here. Couldn't you have just, like, beamed me up or whatever for this exercise?"
"Good, you're catching on," said Coleer. "The physical form our actions here take aren't products of necessity. They are, in your terms, public relations."
"Public relations?" asked James.
"Yes, operating on several levels," said Coleer. "Your whole society is based on theater. The tightly-controlled theatrics of a tiny fraction of your population, to be more precise. The controlled nature of this theater has made you extremely boring and impervious to the kinds of change that would make your people more interesting. The simple act of singling you out is already shaking things up, because it's forced people to consider the idea that even the least influential person imaginable might be important on some level."
"Huh," said James. "Opening minds and snubbing the government? That's cool."
"It has so far proved amusing," said Coleer.
Mollified, James recorded the message for his parents and returned to the tasks assigned to him. Several days later, without warning, the nature of these tasks changed. Instead of puzzles and news clips, he was told to begin designing things by verbally describing them and interacting with a display panel. At first, the items he was asked to design were mundane items. Clothes. Buildings. Weapons. Vehicles. Landscapes.
After that, James was asked to design living things. Insects. Flowers. Trees. Creatures from mythology. The designs were superficial. Although his understanding of biology was basic, that was good enough for the purposes of the exercise. These objects he created would slowly materialize in front of him then dematerialize when their usefulness had ended.
James found this fascinating and unnerving in equal measure. He was bringing things into existence and making them vanish, again and again. A chicken. A turtle. A small unicorn. Then, one day without warning, Coleer had new instructions for James. Instead of designing known entities, he was told to design something new and original.
"What, like a dog with wings?" asked James.
"It could be anything," said Coleer. "Why that?"
"Maybe I should just make one and show you why they're a good idea," said James. "Starting with a puppy. Every human on the planet thinks winged puppies are cute. But is there a way to keep it alive? Not dematerialize it right away?"
"That is acceptable, though the animal will be dematerialized if you stop attending to it," said Coleer.
"Deal," said James.
Determined to succeed, James spent days designing his winged puppy. When the process was complete and the puppy materialized, it was the cutest thing ever. Its little front legs unfolded into wings feathered with modified hair structures. Coming to like, the animal flapped her wings to stand upright, returning to four legs after checking James out. "What should we name her?" he asked.
"Yours to name," said Coleer. "Now, what will you create next? We would like to see something more ambitious. You can modify the human form however you see fit. Improve on it in any way."
"You want me to make a person?" asked James.
"Not merely a person," said Coleer. "A new kind of person. If you could give a young dog wings, consider what you could do with the human body?"
"Hmm," said James. "Wings could be cool. Or tails. A sixth finger, maybe. I feel like I might need to think more about this one."
"Good," said Coleer. "Think until tomorrow. Then begin."
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