"Hm." Said Mrs. Macgregor. She eyed the two well-dressed, men, in their three-piece suits, and watched as they smiled and stepped over to the CEO in the wheel chair.

"Mr. Zander, we've come to take you back to Earth, now." But of course, Al Zander did not answer.

"Now just wait a minute," said the fat woman. She stood to her feet. It was a monumental struggle. Her plump fingers gripped the chair handles like curling slugs and her bum quaked like a gelatinous blob when her ankles cracked under the weight of her erect stature. She sighed a heavy breath and pointed a polished purple nail at the two fellows. Both their faces went white at once. And one of them cringed with a sense of annoyance, but only slight as he meant to keep his dislike of her under the radar. Their intentions were to steal Al Zander away, with no blockades to stop them.

"You two need to wait until Al Zander's butler returns."

The two men traded glances. What butler? They seemed to telepathize to one another.

They returned suspicious eyes to the woman and said, "Al Zander has no butler. He has a personal assistant however. A humanoid. Is that who you're referring to?"

The plump woman shook her head which twisted like an overturned bucket atop the summit of her torso. "His butler was a man. Boyish face. That's all I got in my mind. I can't let you take Al Zander until he comes back."

The two men frowned and traded glances once again.

Then they said, "MacGregor, thank you for bringing the matter to our attention. It seems Al Zander is in grave danger."

"What?" Said the woman, jumping with alarm. She accidentally swung her arm back and tipped over her half empty glass of chardonnay.

"The CEO has only a personal assistant and no butler. The assistant is female and her name is Niagra. Have you not seen her?"

The woman shook her head. Her mouth was shut tight and her eyeballs popped out with worry.

The men continued, "Please tell us more about the man you met. What did he look like?"

"Are you saying the man was a total stranger?"

"Yes," said one man. "Now what did he look like?"

She described my hair, my height, my eyes, my suit. Then the two men looked at each other one last time, nodding. They knew she had described me, the exact same man who had followed them into the bathroom minutes ago to check up on Holly. The man she described, I, was the same man they "took care of" for snooping my nose into their business.

"Thank you Mrs. MacGregor, for bringing this severe matter to our attention. Enjoy your meal and we would appreciate it if you kept the topic on the down low. We would not want this getting out. Not here. We do not want alarm to ruin the party."

The woman stood perfectly still as a mountain as she gaped at the two men who turned Al Zander's wheelchair around and escorted him through the crowd and out of the room.

She sat down in her chair, and wondered what was about to happen to the company, to the CEO, and to me.

Meanwhile...

After half-an-hour, Francisco, who was still consumed in a conversation pit with some important donors from Switzerland, started to realize he had not seen his son for quite some time. He looked around while still trying to be polite to the donors. He caught glimpse of the open exit door that led to a dark hallway on the side of the room. Maybe that is where he left from. What could he be up to?

Before he could break from the dull exchanges of sentences, the two men who had sacked me, his son, Holly, and the CEO, had appeared for the first time on both sides of Francisco. They gave him their handshakes and introduced themselves. They were friendly until they asked to speak to him privately.

"Why?" Said Francisco, rudely. His eyes were still targeting the dark hallway across the room.

"Urgent matters, sir," they said. "We predict an attack on your American estate. Is your family home?"

This caught Francisco's attention like a claw. "Yes," he whispered.

"Come with us."

They left the party.

And that might have been Francisco's worst mistake.

Meanwhile...

Back at the house on Earth, Francisco's daughter Clarita was fast asleep beside her boy toy. Her breathing was deep, thanks to the retro style pumpkin spice candles that just went out and smoked the room. She had lit them to match the season. She had wanted tonight to be the night she first experienced second base, but after her immature fight with her supposedly perfect boy toy, she had decided she was too disappointed to go on with him. They just slept side by side in the darkness. (well actually he was by her side but lying on the hard floor by the bed. Punishment for his insincerity in their simulated relationship.)

She woke to the subtle vibration of her bed.

Everything in her room was connected to the Internet of things. So, at this moment that she shifted under the covers and opened her eyes, she saw a screen appear over her pillow, and it moved as her eyes moved, as her body shifted upright. A screen as translucent as a holograph presented that a friend was trying to call her. She rubbed her eyes and pressed her pillow where the accept button was, and the screen disappeared, while the sound of a phone called blared throughout the sound system of her room.

The feminine voice of her high school friend came out the walls, saying, "Hi Clarita!"

Clarita yawned. "Oh, Hi. What's up."

Clarita's friend answered, "Sorry, did I wake you?"

Clarita nodded and sensors in the room picked her gesture up as the word "Yes" and translated vocally in an automated recording of the word so Clarita's friend would hear it.

Clarita's friend laughed. "I'm sorry! I'll let you get back to sleep then."

"Wait, why'd you call though?" Asked Clarita.

"I wanted to know if you wanted to come to a party at my house. It's a last-minute thing. Lots of people will be there. You should come if you have the energy."

Clarita nearly hopped out of bed, stretched and threw off her pajamas and dashed for her party clothes. She stepped on Carl's face when she lunged for her hairbrush.

"What the hell," said Carl. Clarita's declaration that he should act more like a regular teenage boy activated his profanity.

"Sorry," said Clarita, unapologetically. She brushed her hair vigorously and might have even ripped a few strands out of her scalp. "I'm going to a party."

Clarita's friend overheard this and exclaimed, "You're coming?! Perfect! Can't wait to see you, Clarita!"

"You too," said Clarita.

"Just one thing," said Clarita's friend.

Clarita froze. "What's that?"

"Bring along your new boy toy."

It was a strange request. Clarita thought about it for a second and said, "Okay."

"Great! See you soon." Her friend hung up and the lights turned on in the room—Carl was standing by the wall.

"Wait," he said, "I didn't agree to going to any party." He fingered his hair back. It was greased and looked like the current average boy band fad mixed in with a nerdy recluse appeal which Clarita couldn't help appreciate. Plus, he was tall.

"Doesn't matter," she said, playing into his difficult attitude. His "too cool" attitude. "We're going, so throw something on."

"Is it a party or a kick-back?" Carl asked. His bedroom eyes were just barely open as he searched for a clean shirt.

"No idea. What's a kick-back?" Said Clarita.

"A mellow get-together. Normally there's weed. Parties usually have alcohol," said Carl. He kicked off his sweatpants and Clarita could not help herself but watch him.

"If alcohol and weed are the only things that differentiate the two then I don't think I see a difference because I don't partake in either substance--"

"Ooh-hoo-hoo," jeered Carl, disrespectfully, "goodie-two-shoes here."

Clarita rolled her eyes but could not help but laugh. She kind of found it fun bantering with Carl this way, now that he actually seemed to simulate the more popular, bad boys, and good-for-nothings she always quietly looked at from afar when she was at school across the quad at lunch. Carl was very rebel-without-a-cause-ish now.

"Who are you looking at?" Said Carl before he gave a light smile and a wink to dissolve his hostility. It's just an act sweetheart.

She shot him a side-smile back and shrugged her shoulders, playing along. "No one. Just a guy who looks good in a white tee-shirt."

Carl indeed had just ripped off his shirt, and Clarita brought her fist to her mouth and gnawed on her knuckles. "Jeez."

He threw on some street clothes and a jacket. "You think it's gonna be cold?" He said to her.

"Why are you asking me? Aren't you supposed to know everything?"

"You're a cyborg and I'm a humanoid. It's hard to tell the difference between us." He froze and they exchanged glances. She nodded to him like what he said finally made sense and this triggered a little joyous jeer out of him. "Knew you'd come around to seeing we're the same..."

"...just coming from opposite sides of the spectrum," added Clarita.

"You from the womb of your mother and me from the hands of your father."

Clarita looked at him with glistening eyes of sudden epiphany. What he said finally clicked. They were one in the same. And so she wondered what was separating them now. What wall could possibly be maintaining the blur between their identities. She looked away.

Pulling on his shoes, purposefully not paying Clarita any attention because that's just how self-obsessed guys their age acted, and that's what he thought she wanted, Carl said, "Ready to go, girlfriend?"

Clarita's head turned. "I'm not your girlfriend."

Carl finished tying his shoes and looked up at her. "If you're not my girlfriend, then what am I?"

Clarita shrugged. "Not my boyfriend."

Carl's shock almost led him to stutter "wh-why not?" But then he remembered his no-care-in-the-world attitude and merely looked away. "Cool."

Clarita felt a strike to her pride. She knew she wasn't pretty enough to meet her own boy-toys desires. But then she caught herself and shook her head. The whole thing was very confusing now. He was just a boy toy. A descent of robots. Yet again, they had just assessed they were one in the same.

She was very, very confused with her emotions. Must be a sign of the times, to be so confused about feelings and sex in the Time of Silicone.

Carl threw on a coat and grabbed her jacket off the rack by her door. He almost threw it to her, but a quiet thought of curtesy came over his mind and he walked over to drape it kindly over her shoulders. She felt a wave of warmth encompass her, and she blushed, still very confused.

"Come on," he said, cooly. And he pulled his arm over her shoulders and walked her out her bedroom, down the stairs, and out the front door.

"Where are we going?"

She told him the address and he pressed the keypad in the garage. The garage opened and a sleek convertible, electric vehicle shined under the moonlight that washed in. They hopped in and he entered the address. The car pulled out and circled down a trapdoor onto a downward ramp. Their ears popped and they could see the underground freeway approaching.

"Hey," said Carl, mysteriously.

"What," said Clarita, shooting him a look.

"How about I drive manually without the skate?"

Clarita shot him a new look of horror. "Are you crazy?"

The car was about to approach a wide metal skate and latch onto it so it could shoot their vehicle at a speed of 170 miles per hour toward her friend's house. If he meant to drive their vehicle independently, that would theoretically be dangerous and something she had never experienced before.