It all happened so quick, efficient, so engineered. Bobby loved it.

A forcefield had been placed around him. He now floated down his walkway, still contained. His rescuer, that little smart-assed egg that seemed a bit scrambled, bounced in front, like a ball over a children’s lullaby.

Few like him slid up the sidewalks of his street, Elm, now in shadows of orange.

About an hour later, he saw the wall. A wall of living, stacked in squared off environments like his; fresh, 78, and breathing. To his surprise, each Lucite-like crate was labeled Human Cargo, Fragile, Handle With Care, followed by an undulating bar code.

Tapping…“Can you hear me?” from below.

Bobby spread his legs and peered down through the floor of his new womb. A bald beauty, every hair singed from her face, stared up.

“What the hell happened to you?” he asked.

“That’s the stupidest fucking question — close your legs and leave me alone.”

Bobby was hungry, for beauty, for insults.“Knock knock” he sang.

A giggle from below.