2. An Unexpected Job

Three days passed.

So calm, so peaceful, so clean, and so boring . . .

I've been in a patient’s room all day, vaguely admiring the city view. The sun, the light-blue sky, and the sea at the end of the sky. Then I turned my gaze to a huge window glass. The entire wall is seamless glass, smoothly curving from the floor to the ceiling.

Everything here responds to me intuitively. If I reach out my arm, a glass of water will appear from somewhere. When I wake up, a greeting screen descends from the ceiling to my eye level, and if I feel a bit cold, warm air will ventilate. The background music and lighting change according to my mood.

Then what if I think of a delicious cake, what will happen?

Yes, it happens.

No matter how I thought about it, my room didn't seem like just a hospital ward. I'd rather call this room the penthouse of a luxurious five-star hotel, with all the amenities you could possibly need, including nice city views.

Do I really deserve this?

The sunlight invaded my room again without my permission. This is also a part of their medical treatment programs I should take daily – the quality vitamin D. The sun has literally cured me, and I could feel the healing.

Yes, there is one sun, and one moon. But this is not the earth. It's another planet called Arpes. When I met their cautious eyes in the first place, I instinctively sensed that this was not where I belonged.

But I have no idea why I’m here. My memories are faint, as if it were covered in thick ice. Yet two things are clear: I’m an alien on this planet, and if my guess is correct, a magical surveillance system is hidden in this room, and probably someone monitors the alien’s every move and every thought.

See, it’s 2:32 p.m.

The time has been automatically popping up on the window glass whenever I wonder what time it is. Isn’t that amazing? There are many more amazing features in this room.

My situation didn't seem too bad: they were not hostile, and I got much better. That is my conclusion after three days of contemplation.

To be honest, I’m so excited about this. Another Earth exists somewhere in the universe—so much the same. Even how they split a day into 24 hours is the same as the Earth.

Of course, there are hundreds of evidence I can tell this planet is not the Earth: Windows can talk, transportation is floating up in the air, and robots cure my body.

Thanks to the robots, I was diagnosed with almost recovered this morning. They said it was incredibly fast, and I could be leaving the hospital any time soon. That was good news, but I also worried. If I leave the hospital, where should I go?

"Dr. Bical will be here shortly," a voice broke the silence.

The magic window instantly switched to a monitor screen, showing Dr. Bical passing through the corridor by the physiotherapy room.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Bical.” I rose, turning toward the door.

"Hi, Shine."

As he walked in, a diagnosis chart automatically popped on the screen.

"You've already heard the results this morning."

Then, a three-dimensional image emerged in the middle of us, casting rays of geometric patterns in the air.

“Holy crap,” I gaped. It looked so real.

As I tried to touch the image with my index finger, Dr. Bical smiled and turned his gaze back to the hologram. "Muscles, bones, and all the intestinal functions are working well.”

After a few minutes of examinations, he turned back to me. “Any other minor symptoms?”

"No, sir. It's all better now."

“Fantastic,” he nodded and paused a moment thoughtfully. “Your rapid recovery was a surprise for our scientists.”

Hundreds of medical report pages were swept through on the screen in seconds, and left two comments:

• Communicating level: unmeasurable

• Spatial cognition level: unmeasurable

"Hmm, that’s interesting." Dr. Bical murmured silently. Those two comments seemed to be abnormal, whereas everything else was normal.

“Is that a problem, sir?” I asked.

“Definitely not.” But his expression was uncertain and unsatisfied in some way. “Could be a minor issue. Let’s give it some time.”

He turned back to the next screen. The conclusion page appeared.

• Overall Assessment by Smeadun: Level 3

• Estimated life span: 550 years

"What is level 3?" I asked.

"Level three means you are in good health condition and the second line is your life expectancy, which is guaranteed by the Smeadun Health Care System."

"So . . . I’ll live another 550 years?" I felt a bit silly, asking that question.

"Exactly,” he nodded, “on the premise that you would take all the health care they provide.”

He continued when I didn’t respond, “Even the wardrobe you're wearing is one of the benefits they offer. Just wearing the uniform per se will extend your life span by 150 years."

“Are you kidding?” I asked in disbelief.

“Haven’t you ever noticed any changes?” He raised his eyebrows. “Billions of biochemical cells protect you from outside hazards, maintaining your body in the best condition. Even the tiniest unit of your energy cannot be wasted.”

I looked down at my suit.

“Oh, my . . .”

Then, I began to feel something. It’s a vibration. It was so calm that I haven’t quite recognized it yet.

“Cool!”

“That was a sort of welcoming gift.” He smiled wickedly.

“A gift from,” I tried to remember the name of what he just said, “Smeadun?”

“No, it was from Rinia, the government.”

“Oh, the government,” I repeated, wondering what kind of relevance could exist between me and the government of another planet.

“Any question?" he asked.

"Was I kidnapped?" It just blurted out.

“A plausible theory,” he laughed, “but not even close."

"But then, how did I get here?” I demanded.

"Shine, you came here on your own." He said, his expression serious. “The thing is, we don’t know yet how you made it to our planet. What supernatural power or innovating method possibly brought you here?”

That wasn’t a question.

“So, we’ve scanned your brain to trace all possible routes and . . .”

“Wait,” I interrupted. “You’ve scanned my brain?”

“Yes, we have.” Then he leaned toward the hologram. “And we've found a tiny piece of your memory. We believed it was your childhood remnants. Do you want to see it?”

“Yeah,” I nodded weakly and followed his gaze to see what he saw.

“Find a particle.” He pointed to somewhere in the hologram.

I exhaled after a moment. “Well, sir, I don’t really get it. I can’t see anything but the bizarre image of my brain.”

“Yes, you can.” He insisted. “You have good eyes. It’s only your mind that blocks your vision.”

“My mind?” I rolled my eyes. “Is this a psychic test?”

“Whatsoever,” he shrugged, “you’ll figure it out eventually.”

I stared at it again, concentrating on the image, keeping my eyes straight. I tried not to think of anything.

“Something like ring-shape,” I murmured. “Is that correct?”

“There you go.” He stepped back. “Keep focusing.”

“But it’s broken in parts, I think.”

“And?” he challenged.

“Nothing.” I shook my head. I couldn’t see it more. My hands suddenly trembled as I tried to look deeper into the chink.

"So, what was that?" I turned to him.

"The house where you used to live in.”

He waited for a moment till my hands calmed down and continued. “Analyzing a tiny, broken piece of data wasn’t easy, but we successfully perceived up to 99 percent and reproduced it. Since you would need your place anyway while you stay on this planet.”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked.

“We built the house you used to live in during childhood.”

“Oh,” I was speechless for a moment. “Thanks, Dr. Bical, and to the government.”

“You’re very welcome, Mr. Campbell.”

“Was that my last name also from my memory?” I asked curiously.

“We believe so. Name-associated memories send unique signals. While we studied thousands of vocabularies from your language storage, we discovered some identical patterns.”

“My language storage?”

“Yeah, there were several more names. Such as David, Olsen, Susan, and Jackson. These words were frequently repeated in distinct patterns.”

He continued, “You know, memories are bound together with emotions and certain incidents you’ve been through. Like a spider web. Therefore, the house will help you recall your lost memories.”

“Glad to hear that. Thank you."

“My pleasure.”

"Dr. Bical," I continued, "I don't know how to say this, but Is there anything I can do for your country?”

“Shine, you didn’t owe anything from us.” He replied as if he just heard my thoughts. “But yes, there is a job for you. The whole country has waited for someone to take the job. And now, we found the person. It’s you.”

“I don’t understand.” I was puzzled. It was a completely unexpected answer. A job?

“So, what is it?”

“What you can do well,” he handed me a two-feet-long metal case. “This is the only thing you carried when you came here.”

I opened the cover immediately.

“Oh, it’s a . . .” I stammered.

When I first saw it, I felt a rush of emotion flooding toward me, but I couldn't come up with anything from it. Then I sighed, wondering what this meant to be.

"A spatula?"

"Yes," he nodded, "for icing cake."