[Featured image: welcome mat in a trash can]
[Draft 8-23-2025 … 9-2-2025]
THE SHADOWSCAPE
Copyright © 2025 John P. Healy
(e)scape for free from reality
What’s it all about
When you sort it out, Alfie
Are we meant to take more than we give
Or are we meant to be kind?
– from the 1966 song ‘Alfie’ by Burt Bacharach & Hal David
“Compulsory unification of opinion achieves only the unanimity of the graveyard” – 319 US 624 – Supreme Court 1943
[Image: A wagon train with tag: Oregon or bust]
Introducing Tarry World [1]
Episode 6
“welcome wagon no more” (curiosity is a luxury)
[Image: Rusted hulk of a courtesy van with faded “Welcome Wagon” on the sides]
Prologue
[Image: A stasis pod with a cracked cover]
[Scene: interior of terminal @ off-world spaceport] Revival
The first thing he heard … was some tapping on alumiglas. A masked face stared down at him, a muffled voice said, “Mr Smith? Ident ending in 0823?” He tried to speak, but coughed; then tried to nod ‘yes.’ But his head was cradled and did not move.
The voice said, “Stay calm, it will take a minute. Try again. Are you Mr Joe Smith, ident ending in 0823?”
With some urgency, he replied, this time loudly, “Yes, my name is Joe Smith, 0823!”
The voice replied, “Thanks, your pod will now open.” Smith heard a loud click, his ‘bed’ vibrated, and then the cover rose to the heavens, revealing a fully garbed humanoid figure.
“You may call me Alphie, Mr Smith. … Let me help you sit up. … Great. You may feel a bit lightheaded, but that will pass quickly.” Looking at a data pad, Alphie continued, “Your biosignals look okay, the meds will help stablize your mood for a while.”
Alphie stretched out a hand and asked, “Please shake my hand, firmly.” Smith did so. “Thanks, Mr Smith. As soon as you feel able, you may get up. Just follow the blue line to the shower area.”
Smith did as requested. He puzzled to himself, ‘Why do I feel so agreeable?’
The blue-themed shower area was large, but there were individual partitions. All the instructions were in multiple languages. Soothing music played, occasionally overlaid with a pleasant voice which intoned, “Take your time, there’s no rush, be well.” Maint bots scurried about.
He cleaned up, discarded his pod underwear, and changed into a blue jumpsuit. It all seemed familiar, somehow. As he zipped up and pressed the auto-adjusting snaps on the cuffs, he heard a ping from his chest pockets. Looking down, he saw that his name and ident numbers were displayed there. And, of course, there was a face mask hanging from a loop.
A voice said, “When you are done, Mr Smith, just follow the yellow line to complete your debarkation.” He put on the padded slippers.
His lucidity improved as he followed the next line. There was another large area bordered by yellow tables and chairs. More maint bots. A tall humanoid figure rose from one of the tables and approached. “Mr Smith, you may call me Alphie, please have a seat while we complete your processing.”
Smith complied, but this time remembered what had been nagging him. “Where’s my family? I want to see them!”
Alphie looked down at a pad and replied, “Yes, I see that you were shipped with your wife Melody, son Jeff, and daughter Stella. Is that correct?”
“Yes, yes … where are they?”
“They are on the way. You are designated as the pod head, so you were awakened first. Standard protocol. We just need to review some T&C regarding your sponsorship and interim housing and services. I’ll give each of you a standard citizen pad. Your personal digital assets & archives are preloaded. It’s AI can guide you further.”
So, they sat there for a while. The room strangely quiet. The T&C were overwhelming, just as when he’d enrolled back on Earth. Alphie just pointed to the various sections and had him press his thumb here & there. Alphie kept looking at him and its pad. Smith was getting anxious and wondered why all the repetition.
“Alphie, the patches on my suit are instrumented, correct?”
“Yes, of course, Mr Smith.”
“So, this check-in is really about my condition? Particularly my mental condition?”
“Yes.”
“So, sometimes there are problems after stasis?”
“Yes, Mr Smith, that is all covered in the T&C. Standard quality control, for both sides of your contract.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Alphie looked up, “I see you family members are nearby. I will go round them up and bring them over. You can fill them in on what is next. I have left all your pads on the table. Just follow the green line when you are all ready.”
[Image: Spaceport landscape]
[Scene: exterior of terminal @ off-world spaceport] Moon shadows
At the end of the green line, Smith & his family paused. They were outside. The huge spaceport terminal loomed behind them and extended to each side of the platform on which they stood. With many other small groups nearby. Above ground. There were lights below them. Twilight above them, with shadows cast by 3 moons, each smaller than old Earth’s single Moon.
Their pads beeped and lit up. The AIs, as yet all named Alphie, intoned, “You shuttle is arriving. Be well and be safe.”
A trackless, train-like, snake-like people mover stopped in front of them. Doors slid open. Humanoid porters stepped out. Young Jeff’s eyes went wide. No little green men here – the porters were tall and ruddy, with matching jumpsuits .. and caps which left large eyes in shadow.
But what caught Joe’s attention was that SSA emblems
<(:)>
on some of the mover’s cars were defaced with red X’s. Graffiti?
[The series host “Rod” walks into the scene, faces the camera, and makes a brief monolog.]
Witness pilgrim Joe Smith … and his family, seeking a fresh start on another world … on an alien planet known as ‘Tarry.’ Refugees from an unaffordable, conflicted Earth territory. No longer over mortgaged & over taxed, he arrives with hope and a cryptocurrency grubstake. Part of a group lured by a “wagon train to other worlds” promotion, the trip in stasis has taken years. They disembark into a shadowscape, where now there’s fear of ‘radical human ideas.’ And a new leader feeding that feeling.
[Dramatic montage with music fades in and spins out to black.]
Chapter 1
[Scene: interior of car on people mover] A bump in the road
The scene flew by outside the mover’s large windows. Joe noticed that the dense industrial profile of structures had slowly been replaced with more urban buildings and dwellings. The elevated view appeared almost as in daylight. He figured that the images were AI processed in real time. The car’s screens displayed the usual weather and trip data. Their ETA was an hour & a half, and counting down. Seated across the aisle, Jeff and Stella listlessly tapped away on their pads. Melody had dozed off next to him.
A porter stood stoically at the rear of the car, where there was a small space before a bulkhead.
It all was smoothly surreal in a way, as Joe pondered their new foothold on a alien world. Then … there was a bump … the explosion must have been muffled for a moment, but then they were abruptly pushed out of their seats. Some onto the floor. And the rear of the car was gone. The porter hung by one hand from a bent pole, against darkness, his jumpsuit tattered and hat gone. The alien had a tail! And was bleeding … blue blood.
His kids appeared okay. And Melody was shaking his shoulder. “Joe, Joe, we’re okay, you hit your head against the window. You need to help the porter! I’ll check the other passengers.”
He stumbled into the aisle and toward the rear, as the car continued to move. The porter was a mess. Did he really want to … he found a way to brace himself against part of the remaining bulkhead, and stretched out to grab an arm, a red arm now smeared with blue. He pulled, his grip slipped. His foothold started to release as the porter’s body inched closer. He threw his other hand out and grabbed a strap on the porter’s other limp shoulder. The porter’s expression seemed mildly curious. As the car’s speed eased, they both fell backward onto the floor.
Joe was chest to chest with the porter. Somewhat dazed, it felt like he was looking down at a devil. But the porter was alert, showing teeth … large lips moved. He heard in crisp English, “Thanks … my name is Ben … my family will honor you as well.”
Joe managed to say, “It was … the right thing to do … my name is Joe … my wife is a nurse …”
Ben calmly replied, “Okay, can you get off my chest … I need to breathe better.”
Joe found that he could stand up okay.
The mover approached their destination.
[Scene: entrance to a gated, fenced off enclave] Fenceline
Emergency services had been alerted. Both land & aerial vehicles filled the space next to the station, in front of a gated, fenced off area. Human security & medical personnel followed standard protocols. There’s been no fatalities, but some pilgrims were loaded into ambulances and taken inside.
The porter sat on the ground near a copter. Joe waved, and Ben waved a pad. Joe walked over.
Ben said, “Just a moment of your time … here’s my contact information.” He bumped his pad against Joe’s. “Sometime … someday, maybe we can talk.”
[Scene: morning, large high school gym] Friends & neighbors
The large gym had a familiar feel for Joe and his family. Like a community space in his town back on Earth. But this was the first time they’d slept overnight in one. Along with a couple hundred other new arrivals. Volunteers were milling about doing Q&A, handing out fresh jumpsuits, and continuing any first aid. Others had started serving breakfast. A spokesperson stood on a riser near the end of the service line.
“Hello everyone. A new morning to you. My name is Paul. I’m sort of the supervisor of this enclave. I know you have many questions, but there’s no rush. Your pads have been updated with information on our community & services. Volunteer counselors are available here throughout the day as we process your temporary living quarters. Please stay in the gym and use its facilities until general briefings are finished and you have your housing assignment. There’s no rush. You’ll have a week to visit anyone still hospitalized … touch all the new spaces & community places … maybe make new friends, learn about our neighbors.
“I’ll see everyone back here in a week. At that time we’ll address your work assignments.”
[Scene: midday, large high school gym] Leader teaser
The cots were gone in the gym. Replaced by rows of chairs. The lighting was brighter. Volunteers had set up a lunch buffet line. Joe and his family had chosen sandwiches. Jeff & Stella had gone back for another cookie.
Joe remarked, “Mel, maybe your nursing background is valued here.”
“I’d like that, at least for a while. But what about writers like yourself? Creatives, artists …”
Joe agreed, “Not much of that vibe here the past week.”
Paul was back at the riser. “Hi to everyone … I know many of you have been anxious about today. About fulfilling your contracts, getting your work assignments. Here’s a vid by our territorial governor which explains all that.”
The vid opened with a satellite view from orbit which zoomed to their current location and then faded to some official emblems and then to a tall figure sitting at a stately desk. An alien face. Wearing a tan outfit in the style of a Mandarin or Nehru suit, with a blue pendant.
“Greetings, new guests, new residents of Tarry. My name is Tyrek Jexan Dirzal, your territorial governor. Peace & wellness to you all. The SSA cares about you. You will find a place of purpose here.
“Most of you will be relocated to centers within the territory. You will live and work there, at least for a while. Families will remain together. These centers also provide child care, medical care, and schooling. May your journey here be happy!
“Your pads will be updated starting today with details.”
The vid faded to the official emblems and then to black. And Paul announced, “That’s it for formal presentations today. There’s no rush. Stay & enjoy lunch as long as you want. Your pads will guide you further.”
Mel turned to Joe and said, “Well that was vague. Canned.”
Joe agreed, “Yeah. Did you notice anything else a tad odd? Like the images themselves.”
“What do you mean?”
Joe continued, “Well, particularly the governor’s face and hands. The edges. Something subtle, some fuzzy pixels, just like in the other graphics. A feeling that …”
Jeff & Stella chimed in, “Dad, dad, I can’t believe we’re going to move again. I was making some new friends …”
Mel winked at him, “Another time maybe, eh.”
[Scene: interior of siloed call center] Fake it till you make it
During a lull in the call center, Joe looked around. He was in a room with a hundred cubicles, each containing a workstation and human operator. And there were dozens of such rooms in the facility. ‘So, this is it?’ he mused. That it was a call center – yeah, that had been fuzzy – didn’t bother him as much as the constant feeling that he was faking it.
In the several weeks there, he’d been moved around, doing customer service for different products and services. Thingamajigs, Mighty Mart orders, … None of which he’d had any experience with. ‘Training,’ such as it was, consisted of onscreen scripts and AI agents. That helped keep things moving, but often not in a satisfactory way, for him or the customer, as evident in relentless automated “Please rate your recent support experience” follow-ups. A no-win situation.
Other center workers had been there even longer. Sometimes during short breaks, he might be told, “Think less … just meet your quotas. Nothing to fix here. Leave it as the door.”
But Joe couldn’t just “turn it off” at the end of the day.
He asked his wife one evening, “Mel, what am I going to do?”
She sighed, “Well, I’m not getting into meds. Maybe we need to work on your meals, maybe more exercise like weight lifting, maybe less beer. Or a distraction, like writing stories about Tarry …”
And, amazingly, it was that last bit that actually helped. He just started to write, regardless of whether there was an audience. And at the call center he started approaching each case as a story, as a storytelling interaction. For both sides of the calls. He became better at listening and connecting (even when socializing after work). Many times it wasn’t really about the product or service.
He survived. And then a few months later a message appeared on his pad: “Congrats, you have been reassigned. Take the day off tomorrow, you will receive further instructions.”
Chapter 2
[Scene: inside a high, resplendent foyer of a grand hotel] Two crossed golden keys
The green line ended at the grand entrance. Joe walked forward, trying to relax after an early morning outburst by Jeff & Stella.
His kids were upset again. They said yet another relocation was ‘unacceptable.’ No way. Reasoning was pointless. Joe understood that they still didn’t get T&C. That they were part of a package deal, a contract. All this was for them – so they had a future. It was about having choices, by surviving into adulthood. His kids didn’t see it that way, of course. But there was no where to go, eh. No place to migrate, not yet at least.
But their new living quarters were better. The vibe was cool, the enclave full of glitter, even celebrities.
Joe stood in the amazing foyer of the Ascendant Star, the largest mega hotel & casino on the planet. A city unto itself. Svelte aliens and some humans came and went.
He was the little green man now, dressed in a tailored green suit and tie, almost like a leprechaun. On his lapel there was a pin: two golden keys crossed at the middle. He smiled, “I can do this.”
[Scene: Hotel reception spaces, shortly after sunset] Something … something blue … and a sky of sparkles over you
The wedding reception was amazing … and awkward. He’d never been surrounded by so many Tarrians in one place before. Tarrians that were not booked into a hotel suite or visiting a casino space. ‘What am I doing here?’ Joe thought.
Of course, one reason was that this part of the wedding was at the Ascendant Star. The event was spread over several spaces: a ballroom, which also contained some casino games as a fund raiser; banquet hall; and a rooftop terrace. Not the hotel’s best, but still impressive. ‘How can a porter pay for all this?’ he wondered.
Joe was there not as a concierge, but as a guest … of Ben. Or more accurately, as a guest of Ben’s family. And Tarrian families can be large, more like old Earth clans.
Ben’s invitation had been dropped off at the front desk the week before. A receptionist had placed the envelope in his personal inbox. Inside was an elaborate card and a personal note: “All my family would like to include you in this joyful event. To honor your saving my life. If not for that act of kindness, I would not be here to see my eldest daughter start a new life. I look forward to seeing you.” There was no request to RSVP.
His job provided regular contact with Tarrians and awareness that their business was valued. Assisting them could be good, bad, & ugly – just like humans. But his insight into Tarrian culture was limited, filtered. It felt odd to have someone expressing a debt of gratitude. Would he feel the same if the situation had been reversed? – thinking of his kids. And he had questions.
He’d discussed the invitation with his wife. Melody was blunt, “Is there a problem?” And so on … “You’ve got the time … Aren’t you interested in his story? … Even the kids are curious.”
There really was no argument. Melody had him when she said “story.” The sidelined part of his storytelling brain stepped to the plate, and he just said, “Okay.”
So, here he was, mingling with others, everyone working their way to the rooftop.
The sun had set, the moons low as yet. The sky was mostly clear. The hanging garden offered the usual delightful ambience, but the gathering space had been enhanced with a Tarrian color palette and symbolic artwork.
Everyone found a place to sit on plain benches which faced a raised platform, behind which were graceful arches. Joe found a place near the rear. He realized that the arches were positioned to frame the moons as they moved higher.
There were some tones, like herdsman’s bells. Joe noticed that there were indeed some live musicians in a nook, barely visible in the light of glow plants. They began playing some lilting music, which he did not recognize.
Ben, along with what must have been family heads and an officiator, walked to the platform from the side, as the happy couple approached from the front. All their attire had Tarrian styling with artful touches. For a moment, everyone stood in a circle while holding hands. Then the young pair and officiator mounted the riser, and the others moved to its sides. Lit only by the glowing arches, they all bowed to the seated guests. The music stopped.
The vows were brief. Joe recognized some words. Ben raised his hands to the sky, a horn blew, the arches dimmed. Everyone rose from the benches, and those on the platform turned, looking through the arches. The sky sparkled. The newlyweds’ clothes sparkled.
[Scene: Hotel rooftop terrace] Keepers of the heart
Ben said, “I am happy that you are here. We – my family, noticed your arrival.
Joe looked around, but it appeared that the two of them were alone. Guests and others had left the terrace to enjoy the banquet hall and ballroom. He replied, “Yes, I’m glad as well. It’s fascinating. More insight into your traditions. But still many questions.”
Ben replied, “Indeed. But one step at a time. I like your curiosity. I think you have been on Tarry long enough to sense the general lay of the land, as humans say. I want to share my family history with you. But there is risk.”
“Risk?” Joe whispered.
“Yes, not just to you, but likely your family as well. Have you ever wondered about the enclaves?”
“Sure, at first,” Joe replied. “Even my kids complained about starting fresh in each new location, a whole reset for friends and spaces. But not so much lately. We feel like we belong, a sense of community, a shared reality.”
Ben smiled, “Yes, I understand. That is a good thing. Yet, enclaves are not part of Tarrian history, our history before humans arrived. I do not have much time right now to say much. Everyone downstairs will start wondering where I am. My daughter expects me to dance. But …”
Joe’s eyes widened. He was about to speak, but Ben continued, “As a starting point, I have something for you.” He took out a small blue crystal. “My family keeps crystals like this one to memorialize our lineage and customs. It is holographic and biometric. I have sequenced it to play just once. For about 20 minutes. If you are interested in our story, close you hand around it. After I leave, just open your hand, so it rests on your palm. Removing it from your palm will end playback.”
Joe looked down, paused, then straightened up, “Okay, a new experience, for sure.”
Ben rose, “Just one last thing, as humans say. I have arranged for you not to be disturbed. We can connect downstairs later. You can return the crystal then. … Enjoy the food, and I would like to see you dance!”
[Scene: Hotel rooftop terrace] Behind the curtain
Some months later, Joe was on the roof again, after sunset. A late day at work, a difficult day with demanding guests.
He’d just played Ben’s latest crystal. Perhaps the final piece of a puzzle. He sighed. He remembered …
The first crystal shared by Ben at the wedding reception … Well, that revealed a prosperous and peaceful world. It’s real name was tir-aiy-rff-rll-yaz-sab. Too long and unpronounceable for humans, who just said ‘Tarry.’
It was a culture shaped by a fragile biosphere, not robust like the one with which old Earth had been blessed. Earth had been able to disperse, dilute, and absorb industrial side effects – for a really long while. Tarry’s margins were not as forgiving. Technological development had been slower. There was no grace period to “fix it later.” Unintended consequences cost lives much quicker.
So, Tarrians had lived in a graceful manner. Conditioned to collaborate, to share power, to seek consensus. It was not strictly a classless society, but there was balance.
Ben’s family history contained members in leadership positions. A place at the table, at high council. And on councils for the many aspects of governance.
The arrival of human colonists had perturbed all that. Welcomed and given a seat at the table, humans pushed a new agenda. The new colonists wanted to recreate Earth. A nudge here, a nudge there. Enough Tarrians saw personal advantage in that, enough Tarrians acquiesced. Piece by piece real power was transferred to human rule, to lords of the marketplace.
Nouveau riche Tarrians remained the face of government. A pseudo government. Some were competent, some not. And so it had been for generations. Any friction from old Tarrian families to the new drift was punished.
Ben’s latest crystal had brought Joe almost up to date. To around shortly after he had arrived, when he was assigned to his first enclave. And now he finally understood his unease about that vid by the territorial governor.
The crystal showed that the vid was indeed altered. It was rough footage of the original production studio. The crew and talent. And included a demonstration of AI tech used for the final version shown to new arrivals. A human speaker had been transformed into a Tarrian. The AI tech appeared dated, even compared to that used on Earth before Joe migrated.
The scene which was burned into Joe’s brain had been unplanned and sort of a “live mike” bit of luck. The territorial governor, the de facto human ruler, was joking about something with assistants. At one point, he smiled and said, “I like my humans fair. I like my Tarrians forgetful.”
Ben had mentioned that some of his family members disappeared after that incident.
Joe flinched, and picked a hair from his coat. His kids were blond as well.
[Scene: Hotel rooftop terrace] Half empty …
Joe gazed at the sparkling sky. The high moons. He slumped. He felt like a pilgrim again.
He could talk this over with his wife. Maybe. But his kids? Too risky – for their safety. Some day?
But it was going to be like purgatory, in another conflict zone. More subtle that what he left on Earth, where the shadows were stark and in public view. But Tarry was far more comfortable. Tarrians had endured this state for generations. There had been cycles in that history. Sometimes one step forward, then two steps back. Forever? Maybe he could learn Ben’s Zen-like stance.
He still felt like howling, howling at all three moons. He opened his mouth …
[Fade to credits]
Copyright © 2025 John P. Healy
Notes
[1] Spaces with no welcome mats (perhaps no doors either, eh) …
• Wiki > Welcome Wagon
When the company was founded, Welcome Wagon “hostesses” would visit new homeowners with a gift basket containing samples, coupons, and advertising from contributing businesses. These home visits continued for over 50 years until 1998, when then-owner Cendant laid off the “hostesses”, saying that changing demographics meant few homeowners would be at home when representatives called.
The Tarry World Series
“Haven is easy, heaven is hard” **
[working titles]
- Tarry World – Origins
- Tarry World – Transformation
- Tarry World – Ascendancy
- Tarry World – Rebirth
- Tarry World – Alignment
** “… it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to get into heaven.” – Matthew 19:24
[2] History contains tales of labor initiatives which appeared to be win-win situations for those in need – both sides of the contract, supply & demand. Likely there’ll be more in the distant future, even between planets. Whether for manual labor (robots need not apply) or skilled labor (AIs need not apply). Some might evolve into enduring bilateral collaborations. But there’s always political drift. Asymmetries. And distances in space stress agreements. So, sometimes such ‘guest’ programs wear out their welcome. Generational blending in breaks down.
• Wiki > Bracero Program
[3] I felt that ‘Alphie’ (a variation on ‘Alpha’) was a charming name for hospitality agents. But there’s also a play on its origins & meanings. For example, as a diminutive of ‘Alfred’ & as meaning ‘noble and ready’ or ‘wise counselor.’
And there’s an homage to Burt Bacharach & Hal David’s song written for the 1966 film Alfie. And these lyrics:
What’s it all about
When you sort it out, Alfie
Are we meant to take more than we give
Or are we meant to be kind?
And if, if only fools are kind, Alfie
Then I guess it is wise to be cruel
And if life belongs only to the strong, Alfie
What will you lend on an old golden rule?
[4] SSA = Socialist Symbiotic Alliance (political party). Sort of a play on old Earth’s American Social Security Administration.
[5] The many flavors of service … an homage …
• Wiki > To Serve Man (The Twilight Zone)
“To Serve Man” is the 24th episode of the third season of the anthology series The Twilight Zone, and the 89th overall. It originally aired on March 2, 1962, on CBS.
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