The opening music to the television coverage of Cubs-Diamondbacks game floated across the living room.  Joe had three job interviews this week and even though they weren't construction jobs he'd felt so good about it that he'd splurged on a pizza and a six-pack for the four-thirty game. 

The open beer sat on the endtable next to the couch, nestled on a coaster.  The pizza box was open on the low coffee table between the couch and the television stand and a slice was steaming delightedly on a paper plate in his hand.  The Star Spangled Banner was playing.  Joe was happy.

"Did the game start yet?"  Heather walked through the living room on her way from her bedroom to the kitchen.

"in about five," Joe replied.  "Want a slice?"

"Duh.  Pimples."  Heather rolled her eyes at her father's ignorance about good skin diet and went to get herself a glass of lemonade. 

On her way back, the young pre-teen stopped by the couch and dropped the red and blue dodecahedron she'd fished out of the crawlspace two days previous onto the couch next to her father. 

"Why don't you try doing it while you watch the game?" she suggested.  "The distraction'll up the difficulty level."

"Yeah, okay," Joe replied without looking. 

Heather felt blown off, but she wasn't going to say anything.  Her Dad had worked super hard at getting a job and she knew it was a pride swallowing exercise for him.  Maybe she was pushing too hard.

"Well... okay."  And with that, the young girl went back to her bedroom and her algebra homework.

The pizza was good.  It tasted like victory.  Joe hadn't actually landed a job but the market was loosening and it had the feel of being just a matter of time, which was a ton of bricks better than how it had been for the past few months. 

He drank from his beer and after he put it back down his hand bumped into the plastic polyhedron next to him.  The coverage went to a commercial and so he picked it up and looked it over.  Half was red and half was blue, and if you pulled at them, each half came apart allowing one to get at the hollow insides.  Inside was a dozen small yellow plastic shapes, each corresponding to a hole in one of the twelve sides of the object.  It was a classic toddler's toy - identify shapes and put the right shape into the right hole.

With a sigh, Joe dumped the small yellow pieces out onto the coffee table and then placed the toy on the table next to the pile.  He sat back and, while Arizona took the field, concentrated on the force.  His head, followed by his shoulders and upper body, began to glow with a soft turquoise nimbus.  He made a soft gesture of his hand and the light reached out from his head to the polyhedron and engulfed it in its aura.  The object floated up into the air and hovered in front of Joe. 

He looked at the pile of yellow pieces and one of them floated up and over to join the larger shape.  Joe noted the smaller shape - a crescent - and then used the force to gently spin and turn the twelve-sided device until the matching crescent-shaped hole was facing him. 

The smaller piece floated towards the hole and bumped into it once, then twice.  Joe focused more carefully and finally the yellow bit of plastic slid cleanly through the opening and into the toy's center.  It was a very different, much more complicated task than grabbing a big fridge and tossing it about the backyard. 

While keeping track of the game he managed to repeat the process with a hexagon and a star.  The circle gave him some trouble but only because of a ten-pitch at-bat.  Soon he had all twelve pieces inside the toy and a room temperature slice of uneaten pizza on his plate.

He'd been using the force for half an hour straight and he hadn't yet done the hard part.  Getting the pieces out was a complete order of magnitude more difficult than getting them in.  He'd need another beer before he started.

Joe noted the time: 5:00 PM.  Heather would be done with her homework soon.  If he was lucky she'd watch the game with him and maybe cozy under a blanket with him like they did when she was a tyke and they'd watch cartoons together. It was a pleasant thought for the single dad.

With a wistful smile and a pull of his beer he let himself miss the good times and the better days.

And then the doorbell rang.

Joe's face screwed up and he sighed at the unwanted distraction.  He regarded the Cubs lineup on the screen for a moment before finally forcing himself off the couch and over to the front door.

Beer still in hand, he opened it. 

A slender, blue and white robot regarded him out of glowing amber optics. It looked like one of those "Grays" he'd seen on that Spielberg show "Taken" a few years back. It was about as tall as Heather, but pipe cleaner thin. Its torso was was a light pastel blue, with three small glowing hexagonal lights in the upper left, near the shoulder. The limbs were white, articulated, ceramic-looking. The hands were blue, as were the feet, though the fingers and the two large front 'toes' and one back 'toe' where white. The little 'bots legs bent backwards at the knees, like a birds. It looked delicate, almost as though a strong wind could blow it away. 

Joe stood there, open mouthed, and stared at the thing.  And stared.  He could have been in a coma with his eyes open he stood there and stared for so long, only his eyeballs moving to look it all over. 

It emitted a soft electronic sound, almost like the sound of a stone plunking into water. "INFORMATION: You are Joseph Grasso, TI8859714. Is this correct?" It's voice was formal and polite, but firm.

It knew his name.  That got Joe's brain sparking again and he leaned forward a bit to look around it at the street in front of his house.  This had to be a gag, unless it was the union he thought belatedly.  If it was, he could be in a lot of danger.

"W-Who's asking?" he finally replied, trying to inject some confidence into the tone but not really succeeding.

In response, the tiny metal man's eyes glowed a baleful amber, and a paper thin beam of orangeish light swept out from them and flickered over Joe from head to toe before winking out. "Identity confirmed," the robot said. "Hello Joseph Grasso. I am Zen."

"Ooooooo-kayy..."  Joe looked around the street again for who or whatever was controlling this thing and really started to get creeped out.  Not seeing anyone that looked involved didn't help any.

"Uh, what... uh... what do you need, Zen?" he asked as he leaned forward to speak at the thing's head like it was a microphone.  "You selling something, or what?"

"Incorrect, Joseph Grasso stroke heroic naming convention still in flux due to influence of daughter. I am here to present you with this teleport bracelet." A tiny panel opened on the creatures chest. It reached inside and removed a slender, black and white device, which it opened with a small clicking sound. "Please apply the device to your wrist." 

Joe studied the thing in the robot's grasp and his inner voice told him that this was just too wierd. 

"Um, no."

There was a brief pause, then "INFORMATION: further details of what is to come will only be made available within the secure confines of the ship. Please apply the device to your wrist." The bracelet hung in the air between Joe and the robot, never wavering in the little machines grasp.

Joe looked at the bracelet some more and rubbed his nose.  Finally he reached out and gingerly took the bracelet with thumb and forefinger from the robot.  He studied it another moment, turning it this way and that.  A fleeting hopeful thought brought forth a question.

"Is this about a job?"

There was again that soft, electronic thunking tone. "In a manner of speaking," replied Zen crisply.

That was neither a yes nor a no, Joe thought.  But if there was a chance at a paycheck here he had to take it.  Things were too thin, and he had a kid to provide for.  With a sigh and a prayer that this wasn't a big mistake, he placed the sleek piece of jewelry to his wrist and closed it.

The device clicked firmly shut, flashed a light-blue color, then rippled, vanishing from sight. Joe could still feel it on his wrist, he just couldn't see it any longer. "INFORMATION," intoned Zen. "Prepare for teleport."

Joe had taken a drink from his beer can while he turned his wrist this way and that and got a feel for the invisible bracelet.

"PPFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTT---"  A beer mist shot forth from his face and left a glistening sheen on the robot's head.  "Prepare for what?!"

There was a peculiar vibratory sensation, an immense feeling of coldness that danced and swirled upon his skin as frost upon a window pane in the depths of winter. "Teleport," he heard Zen intone from some far off-place, and the world around him shattered, bright white light becoming the sum of his world.

...to be continued in Issue 1