Ross couldn’t tell where they'd taken him, but it was vast, expansive, and dimly lit, except for a small, bright spot at the center. The spherical lights embedded in the steel floor were the only visible source of illumination. He was alone; the cat-like aliens who had escorted him had vanished into the shadows.

“Hey, where'd everybody go?” Ross inquired, his voice echoing as he scanned the chamber for any signs of activity.

Nothing stirred; the chamber was as silent as it was vacant.

“Geez, you guys sure know how to make a place feel super creepy,” he said, his face reflecting his growing unease.

Abruptly, the chamber was aglow, its floor and ceiling decked in a blue neon-like light grid casting a soft light. The encroaching darkness vanished, and Ross found himself at a wooden harbor facing a pristine tropical beach and quaint wooden huts at dawn, with the sun just starting to rise. The sea and air, refreshingly clean, contrasted sharply with the foul odor of Earth’s polluted oceans.

“Whoa! Where the fuck am I?” Ross exclaimed, clearly puzzled yet amazed. Still incredulous, he moved forward, his gaze sweeping the area. He then looked down at the wooden dock beneath his feet, touching it as if to verify its existence.

It certainly felt real, at least.

“Please, there's no need to be frightened,” said an omnipotent voice, emanating from nowhere.

The voice’s sudden emergence, seemingly speaking directly into his mind, startled Ross.

“Okay, I know I didn't imagine that,” Ross said, appearing deeply unsettled. “Who's inside my fucking head right now?!”

“I am Dr. Zelana Song, and you are presently within a computer-generated simulation designed by our ship,” the voice replied. “I want to emphasize that your well-being is not at risk in any way.”

Ross's eyes bulged in disbelief.

“You trapped me in some giant alien video game?”

“Though I see why you might draw that parallel, referring to this as a 'video game' would be somewhat reductive,” Zelana replied. “It's better to envision it as an immersive virtual realm where you possess the unfettered ability to express your creativity and imagination.”

“Okay, whatever.” Ross paused, his voice taking on an accusatory tone. “But wait just a minute! Your voice sounds familiar!” he said, his stance now guarded. “Aren't you that alien brain whisperer bat thingamajig who made me sit through that dull-as-shit exam yesterday?”

*****

Alien brain whisperer bat thingamajig? Zelana’s snout gave a faint jerk. A tinge of irritation at the specimen’s poor manners couldn’t be helped, yet she found little surprise in its well-documented behavioral issues.

The various research assistants, also observing from the observation bridge, mirrored her reaction. They stood watching through the viewscreen or manned their control stations to manage the simulation, their expressions predominantly marked by professional neutrality, yet subtly betraying a hint of bafflement.

Vexed yet composed, Zelana kept her tone soothing and professional as she addressed the microphone device on her control console.

“Your recognition of my identity is accurate,” Zelana said. “However, I must clarify that what you are experiencing now is not another exam, and I assure you that it will be far from tedious.”

“Then what the fuck am I supposed to be doing here?” the specimen asked, showing unprecedented rudeness.

“The possibilities here are entirely up to you,” Zelana replied. “You are at liberty to traverse this virtual landscape, manipulate its features, and even bring into existence any objects that capture your imagination.”

The specimen’s eyes widened.

“Whoa, back up a second!” it said, its voice filled with awe. “You’re saying that I can just snap my fingers and make whatever pops into my head appear out of thin air?”

“You have understood the concept accurately,” Zelana replied. “You have unbounded liberty within this space.”

A virtual psychological evaluation was, at its core, uncomplicated: Introduce the subject to a simulated environment where it enjoys unrestrained liberty, and then simply observe its preferred course of action. Despite its fundamental nature, such a procedure could unveil a wealth of insight into the subject's culture and cognitive processes, paving the way for more focused future studies.

“Alrighty then.” The specimen surveyed its surroundings, its demeanor reflecting uncertainty about how to move forward. “Might as well dive in and see what this stuff can do.” It paused, thinking about what to create. “So, uh, how exactly do I go about whipping up some cool stuff?” it asked, following a brief pause.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“It's quite simple,” Zelana replied. “All you need to do is clearly state your wish to manifest the item you have in mind.”

“Alrighty! Here goes nothing!” the specimen said, sounding expectant. “Abracadabra hocus pocus beachball!” it exclaimed a moment later, whirling its fingers in a bewitching maneuver aimed at the dock floor as if striving to manifest the object via some occult power.

A red furrowed ball materialized from thin air on the wooden dock floor in front of him, to his slight disappointment, as shown by his changing expression and posture.

“What kind of monstrosity is this?!” Bending over, it picked up the ball and examined it, its face forming a frown. “That ain't no fucking beachball! It looks like my hairy testicle cosplaying as a dodgeball!”

Seeing the specimen’s disappointment with the spawned item, Zelana decided to clarify.

“Keep in mind that our knowledge of your species is still somewhat limited at this stage. As a result, there might be occasions where we fall short in accurately reproducing certain subtle aspects of your cultural context.”

“Huh…cool fucking simulation you got there!” the specimen scoffed before tossing the ball away. It paused again, evidently considering what to summon next.

Zelana carefully noted every nuanced detail of its behavior. Though recorded for later review, these observations paled compared to on-the-spot examination.

“Create a giant inflatable dildo kayak!” the specimen declared, pointing at the shallow ocean water beside the harbor.

A large, multicolored inflatable plastic replica of the specimen’s reproductive appendage, featuring a cockpit and a double-bladed paddle, emerged on the water in front of it.

The specimen burst into a juvenile cackle of happiness.

“Aw yeah, now that's what I'm talking about!” it said happily, loudly smacking its hands together.

Zelana's eyes widened slightly, her cheeks briefly flushing red. She wondered if this odd choice indicated a cultural nuance she was unaware of, or if it simply signaled another aspect of its compromised mental state.

From the others on the observation bridge, reactions varied, spanning from shock to mild amusement. Naturally, the few Mevik present were the only ones to exhibit the latter response.

The specimen quickly took to piloting the so-called ‘dildo kayak’, though it struggled, the boat wobbling precariously in the water as it frantically navigated the harbor—a situation that didn't dampen its evident enjoyment.

“Look upon me and despair! I am now a giant kek an balls!” it barked defiantly with a coarse accent, followed by a menacing cackle. However, its ability to keep the strange boat afloat diminished with each passing moment. “Uh, this thing is really not as easy to control as I thought it would be,” it said, frantically slapping the water on both sides with the paddles to keep the boat from capsizing. Its efforts were futile; the boat capsized regardless, and he fell into the water.

“Do not be alarmed,” Zelana said. “Although the simulation accurately emulates the sensation of being immersed in water, it is programmed to eliminate any risk of drowning. If at any point you feel uncomfortable, simply say the word, and you will be removed from the wa—”

Surprisingly, the specimen just swam back to the dock and climbed up again.

“How fascinating,” Zelana remarked in a tone laden with professional curiosity. “I would not have predicted that your species had adapted to thrive in aquatic settings.”

“Most of us schmucks haven’t,” the specimen said, wringing water from its shirt after it had climbed back onto the dock. “But when you've had your face shoved into as many toilet bowls as I have, you develop a certain level of resilience to water.”

Zelana considered asking for clarification but refrained, as the simulation's goal was to ensure uninterrupted observation.

Over the next several minutes, the specimen entertained itself with its summoning powers, producing ever-stranger items, including a singing plant and a dancing breakfast sandwich. Zelana conceded that the specimen had at least shown some creativity in its choices, despite their strangeness.

“Man, this shit is getting boring,” the specimen said, the allure of its outlandish creations having evidently waned. Suddenly, its face broke into a giant grin. “Holy shit I’ve got an awesome idea!” it said, punctuating the statement with a theatrical hand gesture.

Zelana kept a close watch, her nose twitching and her eyes glued to the monitor screen, anticipating the specimen's next move.

The specimen looked up at the sky, its posture erect and hands expanding into a V shape.

“I want a giant flaming meteor!” it barked with such force that it caused Zelana and everyone watching to wince.

The skies shifted to a deep crimson as a fiery asteroid emerged and drew nearer.

The specimen stood in its V pose, fists clenched and flaring, its face and eyes frantic as it started laughing hysterically. “Yes! Yes! I am death incarnate! I am the destroyer of worlds!” he bellowed megalomaniacally, hands reaching for the sky as the flaming meteor drew closer, casting a shadow over the ocean and harbor, his voice escalating in frenzy. “Kneel before your new deity! You worthless ants!”

Alerted by the situation, Zelana promptly intervened. With a few key presses, the meteor vanished from the sky.

“You've got to be kidding me!” the specimen exclaimed, its prior triumphant posture sagging into disappointment, its hands limp at its sides. “What happened to my glorious harbinger of doom?! It was just getting to the good part!”

Zelana pressed a button on her console to restore the communication channel, then spoke into her microphone.

“I must kindly request that you abstain from conjuring entities that could potentially jeopardize the stability and coherence of the simulation,” she said, her tone slightly firmer than usual, yet maintaining politeness and formality. “While you have been granted a great deal of autonomy, it is important to understand that there are still boundaries that must be respected.”

“Is that right?” the specimen replied, its irritation apparent. “I love how your idea of 'no limits' is about as flexible as a catholic priest's erect cock!” It rubbed its chin in contemplation. “Still, if I turn this place into a crater, there won't be much left for me to do, will there?” Its contemplation extended for a moment more. “Fine, I'll just have to get my kicks elsewhere.” It started walking down the wooden pier toward the distant huts.

Zelana noted the puzzled looks on her assistants' faces but avoided staring. She didn't need to; a quick, indirect glance revealed all she needed to know. It was apparent that she was not the sole individual puzzled by the unfolding spectacle. Her assistants, primarily Prol, did not need her Langan social aptitude to recognize the anomaly presented by this curious alien.