Sam awakened to a soft tone. He opened his eyes and looked around. The hospital room was gone. He looked to be in a mid-range chain hotel room. He was alone. There were two double beds, though the other remained made and unwrinkled. He could see no luggage, no hint of personal belongings. Looking down, he lifted the blankets covering him. He was naked.

Sighing, he swung the blankets clear and swivelled to lower his feet to the carpeted floor. He felt awful. His stomach was rolling like he’d been on a Jäger binge, and his head was throbbing with migraine intensity.

He shuffled unsteadily into the bathroom to relieve himself, both surprised and relieved not to see any unusual colors or glows manifest in the flow.

Finished, he sort of fell towards the sink. Bracing both hands on the countertop, he peered into the mirror at the bloodshot blue eyes looking back out at him, framed by long, dishwater blonde hair. He recognized the idiot, although they hadn’t seen one another in forty years. He was gonna need a haircut and a shave.

Well, he supposed. There were Bob’s bona fides. It had, apparently, not been a joke after all.

“What’s up, asshole?” he wondered aloud. “Care to explain what you’ve gotten us into this time?”

He poured a glass of water and opened the medicine cabinet. Ahah! He pulled out a foil packet and tore it open, popping both aspirin and swilling them down with water. After a moment of thought, he repeated the process.

Moving out into the main room on aching legs, he failed to find a wet bar. Probably for the best, he figured. Thinking of the wet bar, he wondered if the cost of this room was coming out of his hundred gees. It might seem inconsequential, but a hundred thousand bucks wasn’t all that much these inflated days. Particularly with the shopping list he’d already begun compiling in his head.

The quick, shirtsleeve math he’d done last night— no, what had Bob said? Today would be the fourth of February. Last week, then. Whenever. The total he’d come up with had been alarmingly close to that hundred K mark. If this was a real thing that was really happening, he needed to be pinching some pennies.

Pennies. It came on him rather suddenly that Bob had never told him what he was going to be getting out of this game. Oh, he’d gone on about what he, himself was going to get, but the subject of Sam’s prize had never made an appearance before that sudden fade to black. What did that say about his willingness to buy into the whole thing?

The closet alcove was empty, as were the dresser drawers. Well, the Gideon’s Bible was in the nightstand drawer, but he wasn’t about to wear that.

Skin out, then, huh? Bob hadn’t been fooling. How the hell did they expect him to kit out for a three thousand plus mile journey with no damned clothes! Or was that part of the game? He wondered how many alien optical sensors were watching him stumble around in his birthday suit, or if the watching didn’t come ‘til later.

He was reaching for the phone when a sprightly knock sounded on the door. Shave and a haircut, two bits. He was still shaking his head when Bob swept in, still dressed in either the same getup or an exact copy, a garment bag over his shoulder, and a plastic shopping bag dangling from one hand.

“Morning, Sam!” he smiled. “You look good. Strapping, one might say! That’s the physique of a grade A Tucker Shandry if ever I saw one! Welcome to Stage One.”

“Where am I, Bob?”

“Saint Louis,” Bob answered happily. “Nice central location, Saint Louis. In case you have to go somewhere and pick something up in person.”

“I hope there are clothes in that bag,” Sam growled. “Because I ain’t going nowhere like this.”

“Of course, of course,” Bob laughed. I took the liberty.” he hung the bag in the alcove, lowered the shopping bag onto the floor, and pulled a smaller bag from it, moving into the sink alcove. “Coffee?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

Sam was moving to the hanging bag, dreading what he’d find inside if Bob had picked it out. He was relieved to find nothing more than a well-worn charcoal grey suit of conservative cut, along with a pale blue shirt.

“Okay,” he said without turning. “This is a surprise.”

“You’ll need something to wear while jumping through the hoops,” Bob explained over his shoulder. “And I didn’t want to spend money that you might need for critical supplies. So I stopped by the Salvation Army store on my way here. There are shoes in the bag. There are also underwear and socks — those are new. The receipt is in the bag with them.

Rather than getting dressed, though, Sam made his way past the jovial alien and into the shower cubicle. He had no idea where he’d been between the hospital and here, but he felt crawly as hell, and needed to bathe.

Bob was sitting in one of the chairs framing the small round table against the room’s large window drinking coffee when he came out, scrubbing at his hair. Underwear first, he decided. While Bob didn’t seem to mind his nudity, he’d feel better once he’d gotten himself civilized again.

To his absolute lack of surprise, everything was sized properly. Nor had Bob spent extravagantly. Basic box store goods.

A few moments later, hair combed, teeth brushed, fully dressed, Styrofoam coffee cup in hand, he joined his guest at the window.

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“Feeling better?” Bob wondered.

“I feel like somebody threw me off a bridge into a dry riverbed,” Sam rasped. “Before pumping twelve gallons of river mud down my throat. I don’t remember being in this much pain when I was younger.”

“It’ll pass,” Bob assured him. “Side effect of the treatments. By tomorrow, you won’t even remember it.” he pushed a paper-wrapped breakfast sandwich across the table.

“Now, how about we get down to business, eh, Sam?” he grinned. “Get you on track to victory without wasting any time?”

Setting his coffee cup down, he withdrew a thin, tan strip of something from an inner pocket.

“What’s that?” Sam asked him.

“Two-way wrist radio,” Bob replied. “Oh, wait. Sorry, wrong era.” and he shook his head. “Uhm... smart watch? Close enough.

“Here,” he handed the strip over. “You wear it like a wristwatch.”

Sam took the device and examined it. It weighed barely enough to register. There were no buckles or clasps.

“Just wrap it around,” Bob prompted, “and it’ll seal itself.”

Sam did so, and the two ends of the strap seemed to merge. At the same time, the color shifted until it became difficult to see against the skin of his wrist.

“What does it do?”

“Draw your finger along the leading edge there,” Bob instructed.

Sam did so, and a string of numbers flared to life floating just above the surface. He didn’t have to ask what those signified. He was looking at a countdown timer.

“Alright, now touch the leading edge again, just where you did before.”

Okay. Looked like a regular clock. “Hey, wait a minute....”

“Ah, yes,” Bob cleared his throat. “That. I’m afraid you had a bit more damage under the hood than I’d realized, so the rejuvenation process took a bit longer. Nothing to worry about.”

February sixteenth. More than just a bit, he’d wager. Doing the math in his head, he frowned. Friday. Great. He was going into this on a weekend, just for added sport.

“Is there anybody looking for me?” he asked glumly. “Aren’t they going to be wondering what happened to me by now? The cops, at least, if not the hospital.”

Bob dismissed the worry with a wave of one hand. “Taken care of, Sam,” he smiled. “You are, so far as they’re concerned... ah... sorted.”

Sam narrowed an eye at that, but didn’t press. So long as he didn’t have to worry about looking over his shoulder the whole of this next week, where they thought he’d gone was far down on the list of his worries.

They spent several more minutes cataloging the functions of the device. Clock, compass, countdown timer, and text device.

“This is how we’ll keep in contact with you,” Bob informed him of the latter. “One way, I’m afraid. At least for now. You’ll be given messages deemed important to the game, along with progress reports and points accrued.”

“About those points,” Sam wondered.

“Best not to,” Bob shook his head. “I’m not allowed to tell you how to gain points, and I’ve already told you how to lose them. What they gain you will be revealed as it becomes available. That is, from time to time along your journey, you may have access to additional information or assets, provided you have the points to pay for them.”

“I see,” Sam murmured. “Anything else?”

“Just that you need to be careful with them.” Bob warned. “A given offer that you pass on might never come up again, or if it does, be available for the same number of points. At the same time, if you jump on one offer, you may cost yourself the next, possibly more vitally needed offer for a lack of points to spend.”

“Lovely,” Sam frowned. “That it?”

“Here,” Bob slid a thin leather wallet across the table.

Sam eyed the wallet speculatively before taking it up and opening it to reveal several cards inside. He pulled the topmost clear and held it up for Bob to see. “Hundred K?”

“Not quite,” Bob shrugged. “It’s three-twentyish short. I haggled a bit on the suit, but I got you the good underwear and socks. And there’s the room.

“Oh, but to clarify,” he winked. “Inasmuch as I’m on retainer as your agent, I can assist you in this stage. Good thing, too,” his eyes crinkled, “or you’d have had to figure out how to make it to the nearest clothing store in the altogether.”

Sliding the debit card back into its pocket, he pulled the next one clear. It was pretty good, he had to admit. He held it up to the light. “I get pulled over, this gonna pass inspection, Bob?” he asked with a slight smile.

Bob replied with a much wider grin. “Don’t see why not,” he laughed. “The only things we changed were your age and photo. Couldn’t exactly have you running around trying to pass yourself off as a sixty year old man, now could we?”

The other card was a doctored version of his CCW permit, also altered to reflect his new age and visage. Like the driver’s license, it looked completely legit. He wondered how deeply these aliens had infiltrated society, and whether he really gave a crap anymore. Aliens would certainly explain the political situation in the world more than anything he’d been able to come up with on his own. Almost, he asked, but then clamped his mouth shut. He didn’t really want to know.

“Where are we off to first?” Bob interrupted his downwardly spiraling introspection.

“I need a computer and safe internet access,” Sam didn’t hesitate. “And I need to figure out how to get home for at least ten minutes.

“You said that I can’t bring anything I own beyond that five percent. Does that mean I can’t use any of it before I leave either? That why I woke up naked in Saint Louis? Because I’d really like access to my laptop and a few documents I’ve got filed away.”

“Sorry, Sam,” Bob sounded it. “You won’t be allowed to go home until your part in the game is over. Anything there you need, tell me what it is and I’ll make sure it’s delivered here as soon as possible.”

“Fine,” Sam thrummed his fingers agitatedly against the table. He surged abruptly to his feet and stalked over to the nightstand, retrieving pen and paper before returning.

“I’ll need my Alexander AR,” he said, scribbling notes. “This is the serial number. Make sure they bring the right one and don’t mess with any of the stuff that’s mounted on it. My Buckmark twenty-two as well. The one with the can— er, silencer, and the gold trigger,” and he noted the serial number of the pistol. Thinking about it, he scribbled another number down. “And my Bulldog. Might be pushing it, but I doubt whether I could find another one of those in a week.

“My laptop— say,” he looked up from his writing. “If I have you bring me something here, but I decide not to bring it with me before I leave, does it still count against the total?”

Bob raised an eyebrow. “I believe they’ll deduct the value from your account, but unless you physically bring it along, it shouldn’t count against the five or ten percent.”

Sam frowned, but nodded. “Have to do,” he decided. “My laptop. The old one that used to be Meg’s.” he looked up again. “What if I leave something behind?” he asked. “Does it vanish or something, or do they put it back where they got it?”

“I’ll take care of that, Sam,” Bob assured him. “It’ll be there waiting when you come home.”

Sam talked and wrote for the better part of five minutes, pausing to ask for rules clarifications.

“You got a car, Bob?” he asked when he’d finished and passed the list to the gregarious alien.

“I’ve got a lovely car, Sam, my boy!” Bob fairly bubbled.

“Oh, hell,” Sam grimaced. “I know what it looks like, don’t I?”

Bob laughed and smiled wide, turning on his heel and heading for the door. “Off we go, now!”

It was every bit as bad as Sam had feared. He felt like every eye in the city was following them as they plowed through the snowy streets of Saint Louis in the angular movie prop car. He tried not to dwell.