(Dylan)

“Of course, right away,” Marlin turned to Dylan with a crisp nod. “Your well-armed friend is quite correct; an appointment is unnecessary. I shall attend to this matter.” He flicked his wrist over the tablet, flipping his palm to reveal a new overlay. His fingers danced over the screen, swiping back and forth as the menus shifted rapidly.

Dylan watched his gestures and said, “It’s just like an iPad, but made of stone. A stonePad?” Dylan quipped, his eyes lighting up as he finally made the connection. “The sPad!”

Marlin leaned toward Charles, whispering conspiratorially, “It appears they have already harvested his ears; just dreadful, the poor thing.”

Dylan’s hand instinctively went to his ear, his fingers brushing it as self-consciousness crept over him.

“I believe he’s part of an intergalactic trafficking scheme, preying on pre-astral civilizations. This is all very new for him,” Charles said.

“Pre-astral?” Marlin looked up, pointing to Dylan. “He is not elven?”

Charles shook his head.

“Yes, well, that would explain the disfigured ears and poor physical condition.” Marlin exchanged a knowing nod with Charles.

Dylan frowned, eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong with my ears?”

Marlin held out his free hand while continuing to tap with his other. “Your adventuring license, please.”

Charles reached into his pocket and pulled out a rectangular white card, handing it over to the attendant. Marlin took the card, tapping the corner of it on his tablet. He frowned and tapped it again.

Laying the tablet on the counter, he gave Charles his full attention and said, “My apologies, sir, but it appears that this license has been suspended.”

“I’m aware,” Charles said, his voice clipped.

Marlin’s expression didn’t change. “Sir, I am afraid I cannot give you a proper contract for this.”

“I’m aware,” he said again, annoyance carrying in his voice.

Marlin picked the sPad back up and tapped away. After a minute, he said, “The best I can do for you is an unranked transport contract—”

Charles cut him off before he could continue, his voice firm. “We’re not here for me. This man needs your help.”

“Certainly. May I inquire as to his name?”

“Dylan,” he answered for himself.

“Is that a translation ring on his finger?” Marlin asked Charles, throwing a quick gesture toward the band.

Charles gave a curt nod. “Yes.”

“Most excellent. It is essential that he grasps the situation.”

Dylan rolled his eyes, gesturing between the two of them. “Guys, I’m right here.”

Marlin set the tablet back on the counter, this time giving Dylan his full, undivided attention. He dropped his posh accent. “Greetings, Dylan,” the attendant said, louder than necessary, with a glacial cadence. Placing his hand over his chest, he said, “My name is Marlin.”

Dylan looked at Charles, wondering if this was a prank. “Why’s he talking like that?” He pointed to the pretentious elf.

“I am your advocate for your refugee registration.” Marlin continued with his glacially slow explanation. “That means I will argue for, support, and defend your best interests.”

“Are you for real right now?” Dylan asked him.

Marlin dragged out even the simplest response, nodding. “Yes.”

“Holy crap,” Dylan said, “Please stop.”

Marlin looked over at Charles for confirmation.

Charles sighed. “This is why I prefer the day shift…” He turned to the attendant. “He’s not deaf or simple. You can speak normally.”

“Fine.” Marlin narrowed his eyes on them both. Resuming his former accent, he said, “It is my duty to address any inquiries you may have. I understand that you may have undergone a harrowing ordeal, but I have just a few questions. If you would be so kind? I assure you that this should not take an excessive amount of your time.”

Dylan crossed his arms. “What happens to me after the refugee registration?”

“A mender or physician will pick up your contract and become your caseworker.”

“And then what happens?”

“Your caseworker will walk you through the seven-step process, getting you integrated into society in a healthy and engaging way.”

“And what will I have to do?”

“The entire refugee process is modular and completely optional. You will not have to do anything you do not wish to.”

“And what about the cost?”

“Cost?” Marlin stared at him blankly.

“Yes,” Dylan said slowly, “how much is this going to cost me?”

Marlin’s face twisted in confusion. “I am afraid I do not understand your question.”

“What will I owe you when I’m done integrating, or whatever?”

“Nothing, sir. The entire process is optional. Do you still wish to register as a refugee?”

“It just sounds too good to be true, which usually means it is. Are there any hidden fees?”

Marlin shook his head firmly. “I assure you, there are no fees. The League will cover all your food, clothing, lodging, and any occupational training costs.” Dylan asked, narrowing his eyes as if trying to catch Marlin in a lie.

Dylan’s eyes widened. “Wait, you’re going to pay for me to go to school?”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Marlin tilted his head slightly, perplexed by the question. “First, fundamental education is free. Second, you should have already completed it by your age. Does your planet not have education?”

Dylan waved his hand dismissively. “We’ve got education, but the good stuff costs a lot.”

Marlin’s face scrunched in genuine confusion. “Oh, Mother, why would there be a barrier to entry to quality education? What purpose does lowering the average intelligence of society serve? Sounds dreadfully barbaric.”

The more Dylan tried to explain the differences between Mother of Dragons and Earth, the more obvious it became that Earth only focused on short-term profits at the expense of everything else. Seeing a world that focused on adding value, not purely based on money, blew his fucking mind.

“Lastly, we will ensure any gaps in your fundamental knowledge are addressed.”

Dylan picked at his nails, still trying to process this new world. “What about college or higher education? What if I want to go to wizard school—Sorry, wizard college? Does that count as occupational training?”

Marlin pursed his lips in thought, then nodded. “That sounds like a guild. You pay them in time and service, and they reward you with experience and proficiency; something the League would not dare deprive you of.”

Dylan raised an eyebrow. “And how long would I have to work for you?”

“I am afraid you have the arrangement backwards. We will be the ones working for you. Again, this is all voluntary on your part; you are free to opt out at any time.”

Dylan let out a breath, half-laughing. “That sounds great, honestly. What do you want to know so we can get me registered?”

Marlin straightened, picking up the tablet again. “By what means did you arrive on Mother of Dragons? Astralship, world gate, or other?” Marlin picked up the tablet, waiting for a response.

Dylan scratched his head, shrugging. “I don’t know…”

Marlin glanced up from the tablet, one eyebrow arched. “I beg your pardon, could you please clarify?”

“I was walking on Earth one moment and the next I found myself in a room on Mother of Dragons,” Dylan explained, gesturing vaguely with his hands.

“You transitioned from the ground to inside a room?” Marlin repeated back what he understood. “I apologize. I was inquiring about your arrival to the planet, not your ingress into a building.” He turned to Charles and said, “I thought you said he was not simple.”

Charles, arms crossed, exhaled through his nose. “No, he went from his world to ours.”

Marlin’s face shifted in understanding. “So that I have properly understood your situation; you meant the sudden displacement was from your world to ours, and not outdoors to indoors.”

“Correct,” Dylan said.

Marlin tapped at the screen, his face thoughtful. “Hmm.” He tapped a few more boxes.

Dylan leaned in slightly, concerned. “Is that going to be a problem?”

Marlin shook his head, though his gaze remained fixed on the tablet. “Not for me,” he mumbled, tapping another box labeled ‘Unknown’. The attendant waved a hand, sliding through more forms. “I am preparing three contracts: one for your safe transport to the League of Adventurers, another for the investigation into the circumstances of your arrival, and a third for your integration into society here on Mother of Dragons.”

Dylan caught Charles nodding off. The rugged elf was so exhausted, he’d fallen asleep on his feet for a moment. He couldn’t imagine being up for that many days.

Marlin’s voice cut through Dylan’s thoughts. “On to our next inquiry. What is the name of your homeworld?"

‘He’s going to make me say it,’ Dylan thought. Looking at Charles, then back to Marlin, he hesitated to answer. ‘And he’s gonna get it wrong.’

“I understand that your world is pre-astral, but had anyone gotten around to christening it with a name before your abduction?” Marlin asked. “That is fine if you did not. It should not be difficult to find your world among our records. It would be challenging to overlook such an extraordinary population.”

“Yes, I,” Dylan corrected himself, “we named it before I left.”

“Outstanding. Inform me when you are ready, sir,” Marlin said, his fingers poised over the sPad, waiting for Dylan’s response.

Dylan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, remembering what Charles said; mistranslations won’t have consequences. “Earth,” Dylan said.

Marlin blinked. “Pardon, but I believe I may have misunderstood you again. Did you say—”

“Earth,” Dylan repeated quickly. “My planet is called Earth.”

Marlin’s eyebrows raised, having heard him properly the first time. His fingers flew across the overlay screen.

“Hmm.” Marlin repeated the same pattern three more times. “This is most unusual.”

A knot of anxiety tightened in Dylan’s stomach. “What’s unusual?” he asked warily.

Marlin’s face remained calm as he explained, “I assumed a world with such a considerable population would be documented in our archives. Might it have an alternative name, perhaps?”

Dylan shook his head and said, “No, not that I’m aware of.”

“If that is the case, I regret to inform you that we have no record of a Dirt, sir,” Marlin said.

Dylan’s eye twitched as he groaned inwardly. ‘Goddamnit, they got it wrong.’

“That’s because I’m not from dirt. I’m from Earth. Planet Earth. E-a-r—”

“Don’t spell,” Charles and Marlin said in unison.

Dylan sighed in frustration, glaring at the sPad in Marlin’s hand, and thought, ‘Sure, it might be in another language, but they probably give those things to kids.’ If a child could do it, so could he; Dylan reasoned, holding out his hand, and asked, “May I?”

“By all means.” Marlin placed the tablet in Dylan’s hand and pointed to where the name of the planet should go.

The overlay translated easily enough; Constant brain tingles and all, but the layout wasn’t intuitive to him. He was clearly looking at a search engine for planets. However, the keyboard remained untranslated. He sighed. Charles was right again; he’d have to learn how to read, eventually. After several frowny faces, he felt a hand on his shoulder again.

“Technological ignorance is nothing to be ashamed of,” Charles said gently. “You’ve nothing to prove here.”

“We have technology, Charles,” Dylan said, looking at him flatly. “We’ve had computers just like this”—he held up the sPad—“for decades. I use technology every single day of my life.” He pointed to the tablet with his free hand. “We give these to our kids before they can even read or write. Do you remember my phone I keep talking about?”

Charles gestured something between a nod and a shrug.

“I don’t even need hands; I just say what I want and—” He gave himself an idea. “Does this thing have voice activation, speech to text, or a way I can tell it what to do?” he asked, waving the tablet around again.

Marlin looked at him strangely and said, “Indeed, sir.”

“Okay, do it.” He placed the tablet on the counter between them.

Marlin hesitantly reached over and tapped on a button in the corner. “Whenever you are ready.”

“Computer, search for planet Earth,” Dylan said, enunciating the last word clearly. He watched as the overlay displayed a loading symbol; a snake chasing its tail around a rectangle.

It didn’t take long before the overlay displayed the results.

No results found.

Then it prompted him.

Would you like to create a new record?

It gave him two simple options.

Confirm. Deny.

Dylan looked up at Marlin and asked, “Should I?”

Marling nodded. “The registration requires that you input a homeworld, even if it is transitory.”

‘Transitory, that means temporary, right?’ Dylan made the mistake of thinking instead of saying.

Dylan tapped on Confirm and Marlin picked up the tablet. “Superb. Let us proceed. What race do your people refer to themselves as?”

Dylan sighed, finally feeling like they were getting somewhere. “Human.”

Marlin’s face remained impassive, but the sigh that escaped him said it all. “I would have thought Dirtling.” He shrugged, checking the records. The pretentious elf’s sigh told Dylan this would be another new entry.

“Wait.” He held up his hand. “Are you telling me I’m the first human you’ve ever met?”

“No Sir. You are the first human anyone has ever met,” Marlin said.

Dylan didn’t know how he felt about that information.

“Just one last formality is required,” Marlin said.

“What’s that?” Dylan asked. He watched as the attendant spun the tablet around to face him. The outline of a hand replaced the overlay on the stonePad.

“There’s just the small matter of obtaining your legal signal,” Marlin said.

‘He probably meant signature,’ Dylan thought. He reached out to place his hand on the tablet, but Marlin snatched it back before he could.

“It is important you understand, by completing this last step, you will finalize your registration with the League of Adventurers. Upon completion of this last step, I shall assign you refugee status. Do you have questions before we proceed?”

Yes, Dylan had many questions, so many questions. In fact, he wanted to know more about everything the attendant had told him. Normally, he wouldn’t make a fuss and just agree to move along, but he was still dealing with the decisions of Past Dylan and the fine print of the Time orb. This time, he couldn’t allow his blatant disregard for binding documentation to get in his way.

“Yes,” Dylan said.

Sliding the tablet back to Dylan’s side of the counter, Marlin said, “Excellent, now if you would just place your—” He stopped himself and looked up, “My apologies, did you say yes?”