SUBPLOT

by Stanley Lieber

Alpha and his subordinates approached the entrance to the basement.

Smooth door, no obvious handles or knobs. Alpha sniffed around its perimeter, flattening his muzzle against the cold steel. Rings of moisture evaporated as he withdrew his nose. He studied the trail of markings, concluding that some other mechanism must be responsible for negotiating ingress and egress.

Familiar scent.

“Is it true that dogs mark the magnetic lines?” asked one of Alpha’s men.

“No way to be sure,” Alpha concluded.

“Indeed. So, how about that door?”

“The interface seems to have been upgraded. None of my tools are responding.”

“Closed ecosystem,” remarked another of Alpha’s men, with some finality.

Presently, the door opened.

“Subplot 040,” Alpha recited from the manifest. “What’s this going to set me back?”

Gradually, the pricing layer resolved. Alpha whistled as his whiskers performed a scissor kick. “This spread is well beyond our means.”

“Prices negotiable,” the pricing layer interjected.

“All right,” Alpha allowed, frustration mounting as he pawed his way through a proliferation of themes and settings.

Sensitive to its customer’s dysphoria, the pricing layer resumed its dialogue, this time calibrated to a more familiar heuristic.

Alpha’s men dispersed to reconnoiter the facility.

Alpha repeated to himself: Alpha, Alpha, Alpha.

As usual, nothing happened.