Back on Earth, I'd had a car; it was worth maybe twenty-five dollars. It had a terribly iffy manual transmission. If you were stuck in a stoplight going uphill you'd need the skilled feet of a neurosurgeon to avoid rolling into the car behind you.

It hadn't been good, but it was better than being on foot. I was currently on foot. On an alien world. It was an isekai world, though.

So what do people do here? Flag down a passing griffin, offer it a Fallen King Shiny Fire Coin? Broomstick transit? Appeal to anime elf girls by looking forlorn at a bus stop? Still no anime elf girls, by the way. Terribly short-sighted city planning.

Come to think of it, I had zero possessions. Just the coveralls, prison slippers, glasses and body odor. I required more stuff. I wasn't above theft; I was super into theft, actually.

The people here, Human ones and others, ignored me. Ideal. However that huge hovering island was still up there; was it going to bother me? I have nothing against bees but I don't like them when they're used to clear buildings.

I crossed the street and found what looked for all the world like a train station. I didn't see any rails, trains or signs containing arrivals and departures, but it was a big, airy structure that had a lot of foot traffic.

Stores, all in a line like you get in a shopping mall. Each one had a sign overhead in a number of languages: The Maker's Test Merch. Monster School. Get the Phone. Gary's Home Emporium. Probably Curry.

I entered Get the Phone. Aisles of merchandise, made of multicolored and varied little handheld devices. Personal electronics. Good.

Nobody worked there. Well, not quite right: a kind of wooden robot waiter thing, rolling about on rubber tires, was back there between the aisles. It rotated to face me and a single light flickered on its polished surface. The thing hissed up to me over the hardwood floor and parked.

I watched it. I felt a rattling hum between my teeth.

"Have you been attacked?" the thing said in a pleasant contralto.

I shrugged.

"You can get what you need here. No injuries in the scan; are you feeling malnourished or traumatized? Need to talk with anyone? Who did this to you?"

The President, I didn't say. Fortunately he was deterred by an apocalypse of bees. "I…could use a phone. Or whatever people use here."

The machine scanned me again, that hum deeper and more intense. "You don't know how people communicate here."

"I guess I don't."

"Follow me, please. First things first." The thing spun in place and rolled to another store in the little mall. It took me to a place called Clothes But No Cigar. There wasn't a lot of marketing in here; the stuff was all clothing, and all neatly folded.

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"Take what you need."

All right. New shoes, long baggy shorts, a button-down Hawaiian shirt covered in tasteful surfboards, weird isekai underwear. The wooden box offered me a backpack to carry a few changes of clothing.

I ended up following it around. I was given food at Probably Curry. It was decent but not anything I'd ever had before. And not spicy enough.

Items the box-on-wheels offered from various stores:

An actual printed book from Monster School called I Want My Friends to Be Monsters, with a strange furry white dog weasel on the cover.

A first aid kid from Gary's Home Emporium. Gary itself appeared to be a nightmarish corporate mascot consisting of many eyes and many limbs with many elbows. Also a little seed packet for a Houseplant, which was confusing but it was free, so okay. Turns out it was all free.

Some bottles of water with a cute chubby anime girl, her dark hair in two pigtails. Mandy's Aqua FIGHTae! Said the label, with a guide to pronounce it in parentheses: (Fight-tee-ay).

Some Lembas, I was told. Paper packets of what looked like pop-tarts. Stuff to eat on the road. Why did the box assume I was on the road?

"You're good for now," the box said. "I have some questions, are you game?"

I nodded.

"Do you have any memory of anything before today?"

"Yes. I've…been here a little while."

"Is it possible you might be a fictional character?"

I blinked. "I never thought about it before. I don't think so. Like James Bond, you mean?" I was OW 007, after all.

"Or Batman or King Arthur or Live-Action Princess Mononoke. Last month Rapunzel came in, with a chameleon on her shoulder and a frying pan."

"I actually don't think I'm fictional."

The box on wheels inspected me with its single light. "Have you been isekai'd?"

I sighed. "I have. Among other things."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry this happened." She sounded like she meant it. "I can get help for you. The Feast is right above us."

The Feast? I looked up through the leaves at the menace of the flying island with its hidden arsenal of infinite bees.

I can help you. This is the kind of thing people said when I was a kid. After Mom.

It never helped. It only made things worse. And I know I was being irrational here, but I felt myself locking down. Even though this helpful bit of wooden decor had given me a lot.

"I…don't think I want that," I said. "I don't."

"Is your name Owen Mateo Walsh?"

"No!"

That hum had never stopped, I realized. It briefly intensified. The box-lady sounded sad. "I can tell you're lying, Owen. We know what you look like pretty well around here. I want to help you but I'm not going to force it."

"Thank you," I said uncertainly. "Where am I?"

"The Slice."

"Is that the name of this world? What's this town called? What's the name of that ocean?"

"Chicago's the town. Ocean's Lake Michigan. Welcome."

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