The Horton Dilemma [ONC 2022]

BUCKET LIST ITEM #2: CLUB GALAXZEE

The days leading up to bucket list item #2 consist of me perusing forums about psychedelic experiences and entity contact. I even post a question in one of these forums, against my better judgment (a consequence of wine-fueled impulsivity): "Worried I'm going crazy. I know I shouldn't believe in the crocodile-ish/lizard-ish people I encountered, but I do. Will this ever end?" Many of the responses I receive are aimed at convincing me that these experiences are real, that there exist worlds outside of our own—not helpful. But some of the responses say something in the vein of this: "The same thing happened to me. It was only temporary. A year down the road, I was able to see the experience for what it was: a product of my imagination."

Now, I feel much more calm. Okay. It's a temporary belief brought on by a temporary—(I refuse to call it "psychosis" anymore)—confusion. Or obsession. Or desire to explain something in a more creative way than science can: brain waves < another world. One day soon, I will stop believing. Brain waves > another world.

But part of me doesn't want to stop believing. I think it's that emotional part of me—that part that feels like Lizard Man and I had more to say to one another, more to give one another.

As I get ready to go clubbing with Nakomi, my pocket computer starts to ring. Gordon Goby's name appears on the plastic screen. Why is he calling me?

Although I plan to leave my life behind for this man, I hardly know him, and his notoriety does cause me to feel starstruck at times.

"Hello?" I hold the computer's camera close to my face so he can't see my ridiculous outfit.

"Izzy. I saw your TEDTalk. Wanted to congratulate you."

"Thank you, Mr. Goby."

"Thanks for championing the cause, too. You wouldn't believe how many news articles keep coming out about the 'futility' of our colony, our 'selfishness,' our wealth and intellectual-property 'hoarding'...don't these people realize we're aimed at preserving humanity?"

"Yep. Yep. I totally agree." He probably expects me to say more, but I find myself at a loss for words.

"Are you getting excited?" he asks after a moment of awkward silence.

I realize, right then, that I've hardly been thinking about Mars. Crocodile/Lizard Man has overtaken my stream of consciousness—he's all I think about. "I can't wait. I'm just trying to make the most of the time we have left."

"Well, be careful. We wouldn't want to lose you before the launch." Gordon laughs like this is funny, but I suddenly remember that feeling I had under the influence of Vivectica ™—that feeling of being lost forever. That feeling that I might not come back.

Maybe I haven't come back.

"I'll be careful," I say.

We hang up, and I call a self-driving car on my Voom! app to take me to the club.

Club Galaxzee is a club in Portland where patrons dress like aliens and dance their legs, or other appendages, off. Tails, antenna, and claws (especially lobster-esque claws) aren't an uncommon sight.

That's why I have dressed in alien attire, the "ridiculous outfit" I didn't want Gordon Goby to see me in. I wear a cute orange dress and matching antenna. Orange shimmer covers the exposed parts of my body. I feel immensely grateful for the self-driving car; a driver would surely inquire about my outfit.

After the drive, I arrive at the club to find Nakomi near the front of the line, who has purchased the black contact lenses that each cover the entire eye, iris and white included. They make her look pretty freaky, and her scaly green dress, complete with a tail, makes her look freakier. When she opens her mouth, I see she's wearing teeth.