Galactic Earth (16 page)

“I’m great, how are you, working hard?” asked Layla noticing his pale complexion, dull yellowish hair, and bony frame, not to mention his junk lunch.

“Yea, working hard alright,” Henry said letting out a sigh while rubbing the upper ridge of his nose.

“Aren’t we all, speaking of work, I was wondering if you could help me with something,” she asked smilingly with her hands folded behind her.

“It’s college all over again, what can I do for you?” he said with a chuckle.

Layla explained her failed attempts to contact someone and wanted Henry to track the location of the email.

“Who is this person?”

Layla paused, looking to her side. She commented on one of his robot models.

“Thanks,” he said not easily diverting his attention.

Layla let out a breath.

“Look, I’ve got the biggest story of my life and all I need is this interview, please Henry,” she said.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to talk.”

“No, he has to, my emails must’ve gone in his spam folder!” she stated with raised fists.

Henry was taken back.

“Who is this guy?”

Layla stalled, but finally let out a confessing sigh.

“Ok Henry, I’ll be honest with you. Did you see on the news of the space man?”

“Who hasn’t it?”

“I’ve got his email,” she said with a firm expression.

“What, are you joking? Where, and how?”

Layla stared at him with a serious look. Henry looked at her with surprise and doubt.

“Please Henry,” she said.

“That’s the most serious I’ve seen you, you aren’t kidding,” he said swallowing saliva. “Look…hacking is not my specialty. You’re going to have to ask Eric. He’s lazy and puts off work, but he’s good, otherwise we would have let him go long ago. Problem is, he’s the best and he knows it.

You’re going to have to convince him to do it. You can tell him I sent you, but I can’t guarantee when he’ll find your guy,” Henry said.

“Where is he?” she said standing erect again with returned zest.

“Back at the main lab in room eight, good luck.”

“Thank you Henry, you’re the best!” Layla said hugging him. She started striding out, but stopped at the door and mischievously turned around.

“Don’t worry, I’m very persuasive,” she said seductively.

She winked and left. Henry was speechless. He took a deep breath to regain composure.

“Yes you are,” he said to himself.

Opening a few buttons on her shirt, Layla walked to the main room full of cubicles and made her way across to where room number eight was, receiving many looks from employees. She knocked on the door, no answer. Knocking again, she slowly opened the door slightly.

“Eric?”

Inside was a short pimple faced man with messy black hair.

“Who is it?” he said adjusting his glasses.

“Hi there, I’m Layla. Henry sent me over to get some help from you,” she said making eye contact.

“From me,” Eric stuttered in disbelief?

“Yeah, I need to find the location of an email address, can you do that for me sweetie?” she said in a soft affectionate tone while leaning over exposing more cleavage. She handed him the address. Butterflies flew around Eric’s stomach as his whole body started shaking.

“Ah-s-sure,” he said, sweat running down his head.

He searched for the location, stating that it was a remote IP address. After several minutes of mouse clicking Eric fiddled in his chair and let out a few sighs. Layla noticed his displeased look. She stood beside him and leaned over.

“Wow, that looks really complicated,” she said smiling with a keen interest.

“Oh yeah, it’s a lot of code,” he said a little taken back by her closer proximity.

“I don’t know how you do it, you must be really smart!” she said sincerely, smiling at him.

Time stopped for a moment as Eric gazed at her. What a beautiful angel, he thought.

The sight of her put him in a temporary state of star eyed euphoria.

“Thank you,” he said.

“You can do it, I believe in you. Henry sent me to the right man,” said Layla.

Her words of encouragement motivated Eric to search more while she looked on.

“Ok, IP is there, cyber router offsetting signal to hide its location,” Eric murmured to himself slightly covering his mouth. “Your guy is really smart, but I’m smarter, I was able to track the signal from the VPN and trace its location.”

“Yes, that’s awesome!" Layla jumped for joy.

“However, the address doesn’t belong to a residence,” said Eric.

“Huh?” Layla leaned in closer to the computer screen.

“The result shows it’s somewhere in this small section by the bay area,” he said pointing at the location. Layla wrote down the address.

“Thank you so much, you’re the best!” Layla said. She leaned over and gave a quick pucker on Eric’s cheek. Layla then waved goodbye and departed. Eric sat motionless with his mouth open.

Oh my God, I’ve been kissed by an angel, he thought swallowing saliva.

Like a determined tiger on the path, Layla zoomed towards her new destination. Following her phone’s GPS, she boarded the subway train. She folded her hands looking up, her finger tapping rapidly as she waited for the multiple stops on the subway’s route. She checked her email on several occasions to pass the time. Her patience rewarded her with her final stop as her prayers must have appeased Cronos.

Running up the stairs to the surface, she accidentally bumped into an elderly woman, knocking over her caged parrot. Layla apologized, but was returned with foul language. She continued outside and did the unthinkable of grabbing a conventional food bar with a protein drink.

Healthy eating can sacrifice for one day, she thought being the strict organic eater that she was. The sun was slowly leaving the earth along with its rays. Layla ran until she found a cab and got dropped off near the bay. Upon getting out, Layla noticed the area was deserted and run down. The only appealing sight was a lighthouse by the shore.

Layla asked the locals at the bazaar if they knew of the address. Unfortunately for her, most of them didn’t speak English. It was a strange place to her as she never heard of nor visited this area before. She roamed several streets searching for help, but no one was around as it was passed their bed times. Layla noticed a fire produced light northwest of her. Following it led her to a narrow road surrounded by many very small homes. Some people were outside doing some chores and other maintenance.

“Do you know this address?” she said pointing to her phone.

The shabby elderly woman shook her head, leaving Layla hopeless.

She let out a breath and walked towards the dock area hunched over.

This place is run down by the bay and with non-English speaking people, it just doesn’t any make sense, she thought.

The short boardwalk was decently lit where some people were attending a limited variety of restaurants.

Familiar words caught her ear, giving her hope that maybe someone could point her in the right direction.

Thank God, they must be tourists to this place. It must be like visiting a foreign country to them, she thought noticing the wealthy looking Caucasian customers with New York accents. She went inside and asked the greeter if she knew of the address.

“11
th
Mahadev Street, 22?” she said struggling to pronounce the name, “I have no idea. This is Eleventh Street, so I’m not exactly sure where it is,” she said pondering its whereabouts, “Let me ask my manager.” said the girl. She went back to find out while Layla waited, letting out a big sigh as her mind circled around Gudama.

He sure knows how to pick a hideout, she thought.

The girl came back with a smile, a sign of hope lifted on Layla’s face.

“I’m sorry, no one’s ever heard of that address. Eleventh Street actually goes down that way, so if you keep going, maybe you might find it or someone who can help you,” she said pointing to her right while shrugging her shoulders.

“Ok, thank you,” replied Layla.

Walking down the boardwalk eventually fatigued Layla’s already tired legs from all of the day’s moving around. At the end, all she found were some small boats by the dock.

“He couldn’t be here,” she said to herself.

Part time alien, full time fisherman, no way, she thought!

Disheartened, Layla sat by the dock gazing away at the water, the moon light providing a pleasant view. She let out a deep breath, and checked her email again.

“What a surprise,” she said seeing no response.

Layla buried her head into her folded arms between her legs.

“Rough day?” said a deep manly voice.

Startled, Layla quickly looked up to identify the voice. It was a wiry middle aged fisherman wearing a sleeveless vest and a fisherman’s hat.

“Augh, tell me about it,” Layla said sliding her hand through her hair.

“Boyfriend dumped ya?” he said chewing on a jerky.

“No, no, nothing like that,” she said with her head rested on her wrist, “Well I guess maybe you could say that,” she continued after thinking about the situation while looking at the stars..

“Ah don’t worry about it girl, you’ll find someone better,” he said with a chuckle.

Layla groaned in disappointment.

“Would you like some fish? I just caught ‘em fresh today,” he said while lifting one up from his catch.

“No thank you,” Layla said depressingly.

“Well, if there’s anything I can do let me know,” he said walking inside his boat cabin.

“If you could tell me where to find this address that would great,” Layla casually said.

“What address?” he said coming back.

Layla simply raised her IPhone to him, not expecting much. The fisherman walked over to her, took the device and tried to pronounce the name.

“Hmm, that’s the first time I’ve heard of it,” he said.

Layla let out a sigh, “Ah huh.”

“Wait a minute, did this person move in recently?”

Her eyes lit up.

“Ah yea, you could say that.”

“That’s not a home address that belongs to a mailbox.”

“What?” Layla said turning around.

“I’ve lived here for forty years, I know everyone in this town. That doesn’t belong to anyone who lives here. It must be one of those rich folk who come and go,” he said.

Layla listened attentively.

“Every now and then those wealthy corporate suits open up temporary mail boxes during their vacations, or when they’re scouting the place for minerals and other business stuff,” he continued.

“No way,” Layla got up, and leaned next to him.

“See, eleven, then twenty two. Eleventh Street runs all the way down here,” the fisherman said pointing in both directions.

“Oh my God,” Layla said clapping her face with her hands in amazement from the revelation.

Gudama the rich alien businessman, am I about to blow the whistle on the world’s biggest prank, thought Layla?

“Yup, that’s definitely a P.O. Box number. No resident here has double numbers like that,” he said pointing at the digits while Layla stood beside him with her mouth and eyes wide open.

“I know it’s weird, but this here’s a poor town, it’s like a big apartment complex slash slum-uh...I don’t even know what to call it anymore. Back in my day it used to be splendid, but then all those businessmen bought up the land and rented to their workers for cheap labor and so they can work long hours here, cutting the commute from home. Those slick bastards,” he continued shaking his head in disgust.

Layla stood arms folded while rapidly tapping her chin with her index finger, pondering the new knowledge given to her.

“System here’s terrible. They can’t accommodate nor afford every suit that comes in every other month, that’s why they let ‘em have whatever name they want and just give them a number for their mailbox,” the fisherman said disapprovingly.

Layla leaned her neck closer, absorbing his every spoken word attentively.

“No flipping way,” she said in disbelief.

“Oh yes, I’ve heard of ‘em all, the most obnoxious names ever. Big Bucks Benny Street, Money Marla Street, Carl’s Gold Coin Street, Rich - Rich,” he said looking at her with raised eyebrows, “Yea go figure. Then there were some really stupid ones like eh, Masters of Profit, We Rule the World…whatever, real jerks. Bunch of money mongers, they only need them just for quick vocations so they treat it like a joke.”

Layla slanted her eyebrows finding all this hard to believe.

“A lot of people here are illegal immigrants, the suits don’t care and neither does the government, so all the mail goes to that postal building right over there,” he said pointing.

“Anytime you see another number after Eleventh Street, you know it goes to a postal box.”

“That’s it,” she said.

The fisherman shook his head.

“Poor girl, you must’ve dated one of those rich suits. He ditched ya giving you a mailbox address,” he said patting her shoulder.

“No, that’s where I need to go, thank you so much!” Layla trailed away towards the postal building.

“Don’t chase him honey he’s not worth it, they’re all greedy rotten scumbags!” the fisherman yelled as she ran towards her target.

Static electricity zapped Layla’s hand just before making contact with the door knob.

“Ouch,” Layla said shaking off her retreated arm.

She struggled to open, but it was locked.

“Oh no,” she said banging on the door.

Peeping into the glass window, Layla rapidly tapped hoping to get someone’s attention. The finger jabs shorty turned into slams and scratches as Layla desperately tried to get in.

“No!” she said, smacking her head against the glass.

She leaned on the window resting her forehead on her forearm and started sniffling.

“What do you think you doing?” said a man.

The voice belonged to one of the night security officers patrolling the area. He got out of the car to confront her.

Thousands of formless thoughts swirled in Layla’s mind as she looked to the side waiting for the perfect answer.

“I’m so sorry officer, I’m going through a tough phase right now and I just wanted to pick up a very important package,” she sobbingly said.

“Uh huh, was it really that necessary to get it tonight?” the cop said raising his head with folded arms suspicious of her activity.

Wow, that’s a big mustache, no stop it, THINK, Layla thought to herself!

“It’s very time sensitive material!” Layla pleaded.

“Oh really, and what sort of material is that?” questioned the officer with raised eyebrows.

“Bills, my paycheck, other important documents…bills!” she exclaimed.

She started crying, reaching out to the cop’s emotions. He didn’t know if she was crazy or sincerely struggling.

“You know there is direct deposit,” he said.

“I have to work eighty hours a week, no social life, I don’t even have time to shave my legs!” whined Layla in sorrow.

She dropped to the ground in tears. The cop directed his flashlight on her.

She’s too pretty to be in this dump, something isn’t right, he thought.

“You look like you belong with the Fortune 500 companies, where do you work?”

Not knowing what else to say or do, Layla showed him the mysterious address.

“Ha, ha, very funny, look mam, I’m going to have to see some I.D.,” the cop said in a receiving gesture.

Praying to Jesus, Layla begged to be saved. She felt a spark and as she looked up, Layla noticed what looked like a shooting star in the distance by the lighthouse. The lighthouse, that’s it, Layla thought!

Her crying subsided, and now a plan of action was on her mind. A faint smile of deviance wiped across her face. She somehow knew the lighthouse was God’s answer. Layla shakily stood up and dug around in her purse.

“It’s here somewhere,” she said sniffling, “Oops!” she said dropping her purse.

“I’m sorry, I’m just such a mess,” she sobbingly said burying her face in her hands.

“Allow me,” the officer volunteered.

With cat-like dexterity, Layla pepper sprayed the cop. He screamed in pain while covering his eyes. Layla put her seven years of martial arts training to good use and kicked the officer in the groin, sending him to the ground groaning. She threw a round house knocking him unconscious along with amnesia of their date. Layla rose up and turned her head to set her focus now on the distant lighthouse.

Galloping like a horse, Layla zipped her way towards her final destination like a gazelle. She leaped over obstacles gracefully like a tiger focused on her prey. The gap between her and the lighthouse lessened quickly. All her retina registered was the lighthouse, everything else seemed to vanish. The soft sand slowed her pace a bit, but soon enough Layla had reached her target. Catching her breath, Layla walked the rest of the way, watching the tides and in a bit of disbelief from observing the great distance she covered behind her. The door was big and old looking. Rocks composed the rest of the main and surrounding structures.

Knock, knock. The sound echoed inside. Layla grabbed the knob, but it was locked. She tried using a rock to bust it open which did no good. She used the light emanating from her IPhone to get better visibility. Upon further inspection, she saw that there was a digital device securing the door which required a code.

“No freaking way,” she said, “this has got to be it.”

“Hello?” said Henry.

“Hey, it’s me. I really need a huge favor right now.”

“Layla, where’re you calling from?”

“No time, can you or Eric help me unlock this door’s security code?” she said.

“What, you’re breaking into someone’s house?”

“No Henry, come on!”

“You’re lucky I’m your friend and that we geeks have nothing better to do than working long nights. I’ll transfer you over, and please don’t end up in jail,” Henry said placing her on hold.

Wind played with her hair as she waited like a sniper for Eric’s voice. Right before he could finish answering, she immediately explained her situation of needing a code over-ride. Eric, love struck by Layla’s voice, agreed and instructed to send her phone number which she did. Soon after, Eric hacked into her IPhone and told her to place the phone’s camera window in front of the door’s security device.

“Do you see a manufacture’s number, or model number, or any other numbers?” he asked.

Layla told him the numbers she saw and waited.

After examination and some computer crunching, Eric got it.

“Ok, here’s what we’re going to do. The signal is too weak over there, so I’m going try sending one through your phone. It should work, but you’ll have to place it close to the device, got it?”