Xenoman

39 End Transmission

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Xeno and Trianne exited the men's room door and found themselves inside an empty break room, with lunch tables and vacant chairs. They crossed through the entry on the other side, and continued down the hall, leading them into the back of a dry cleaning store. They made their way through the racks of hanging clothes sealed in garment bags, until they reached the front counter. There was no one at the register, no customers in the store, just a receipt pad with a Dee Lux Dry Cleaners receipt, half filled out, with the pen lying astray on the counter, as if someone dropped what they were doing and left.

Outside the storefront window, the boulevard appeared deserted in the glare of afternoon sun. There were no pedestrians on the sidewalks, no drivers in the vehicles parked along the curb, no engine sounds, no door slams in the distance, no construction equipment with regurgitating machinery, just the leaves of irrigated palm trees waving in the breeze. In the strip mall across the street, was an Orange Curious. There were no customers visible in the booths, behind the storefront glass. Cars sat abandoned in the drive-thru lane.

They walked out of the dry cleaners and stepped off the sidewalk, pausing in the middle of the street, looking for signs of life, moving vehicles, seeing nothing for several blocks each way, except high sandstone walls in the distance, surrounding the perimeter of the city.

"We're still in Arcade," Xeno said.

"But, all these buildings are outside, exposed." Trianne said, looking about.

"I think this is the thrown together, not-so-well-thought-out, industrial district, behind all the pretty buildings. Every paradise has one."

"Where did everyone go? Are we late to a plague?"

"Could be a siesta. Nothing looks damaged. No sign of a holocaust."

"It looks like everyone just . . . left."

"I'll ask Garry." Xeno dialed Garry on his black box transceiver.

"Hello. I am currently away from my desk." Garry's voice mail again. "Please leave a brief message after the tone and I will return your call as soon as possible. My office hours are Monday through Sunday, twelve a.m to twelve a.m. If this is an emergency, that's too bad. You'll just have to learn to be patient." The message tone sounded off.

"Garry, Xeno. Put away that pocket pizza and give me a call." Xeno hung up.

"What now?" Trianne said.

"How about that Orange Curious across the street? Thirsty?"

"Very."

They crossed to the other side of the desolate street, and pushed through the swinging doors of the Orange Curious. Everything appeared clean and orderly. The floor was freshly mopped, still smelling of ammonia, the booth tables wiped clean, with streaks of cleanser still drying on the Formica. There was no one at the register, behind the orange wraparound service counter. The only sign of life was the faint grinding sound of the see-through self-serve hot dog grill, with foot long dogs still rotating on the bottom level, giving off a burning salt stink. On the upper level, were freshly heated buns, neatly stacked in place.

Xeno walked behind the service counter, selected a malt glass, held it under the dispenser of the stainless steel Orange Curious machine, and pulled down on the release lever. The dispenser flowed with creamy orange liquid, filling the glass in seconds. He filled a second glass for Trianne, and handed it to her. They sat across from each other in a booth, inserted their straws, and sipped from their malt glasses. After a few gulps of Orange Curious, Trianne frowned and stopped sipping.