I slowly crawl my way to the edge of my cell to reach and grab the odd King’s hand. He pulls me the rest of the way out. As I stand face to face with him, I fully grasp how long he is, standing easily over three meters  tall… His outfit resembled some kind of elaborate, platinum, skin-tight armor, with numerous overlapping enamel plates covering his sides. Slung along his back is a pelt from some sort of ermine-patterned sabre-toothed cat, warn like a half cape. Two belts swung around his waist, one white, thin and studded while the other thick and black. Accompanying them were two sashes, one long and royal purple, the other transparent and silvery blue. Adorning his head of bristling white hair was an elaborate crown of shining amethysts and obsidian spades, centered by a polished platinum centerpiece covered in strange, elaborate scroll work. His face was…uncanny. Pale, angular, youthful, with pointed ears framing his pointed features, his regal appearance exudes a strange air of unsettling nobility.

The King smiled down at me, and all I could think to say through my bewitched state of mind was: “Are you human?”

The King flings back his head and lets out a chuckle bordering on a cackle, then takes a moment to look up and ponder. “In a sense, yes…” he started, flicking his eyes back down to mine, his head following in toe “…yet we are so much more!”

My eyes widen at his answer. I instinctively ask: “Where were you…” I stumble with my words and almost fall. “…from?”…what is wrong with me?

He smiles, then turns to the hall and beacons me to follow him, I oblige. He saunters down the hall as if he has the power of the universe at his fingertips, but he gave it all up just to control this little world. “Well, my story began in the year of A Lord: 1590 A.D., in the James Town Colony of Roanoke Island, Virginia, of the ‘New World’… where I was… DISCOVERED!! Alone in my cabin, after the rest of my people had disappeared, to where? I know not… but! I was found, alone in the ‘New World’, the only survivor…” The King continued with his positively ludicrous story: “I was brought to Britain, then The Netherlands, where I was formally educated and trained in the study of the ancient world, later classified as paleontology and archeology. Ever since my first youth, I was fascinated by exploration of the Earth and the occult secrets it held… deep within its land and oceans. I lived with Queen Elizabeth, met Shakespeare, traversed the Amazon, found and lost Eldorado, reached the North Pole, aided in the discovery of the Antarctica, deep dove in the Bermuda Triangle, and headed the expedition which discovered Tazmania, all in my first lifetime!!” The King paused for a while, I nearly put forth another question but I was cut off just in time “BUT! I was discontent… caught in a downward spiral of depression and drug dependency… for I was so painfully aware of my own imminent death. Half-way through my first lifetime, I set out in search of ancient artifacts associated with immortality…”

I waited for quite some time, until my patience ran out. “And then?”

“… Is it a buttplug?” I ask without actually thinking of my utterances, or whom I’m uttering them at.

“A…a what? NO!” he spins and towers over me, leaning above me. “It is the foundation on which our society is built!” as The King gets more worked up, the floor beneath me begins to tremble. “It is the bedrock, nay, the CORE! More precious than platinum, more intelligent than the internet, more GRACIOUS than GOD!! AND IT SHALL BE RESPECTED AS SOMETHING OF ITS PEDIGREE DESERVES!!!!” The King finishes screaming in my face and recomposes himself. The look on my face must have triggered some kind of remorse within him. “I see, you are but an out-rider, a savage, uninitiated and unknowledgeable in the ways of this world.” His eyes then flick back to mine “Isn’t that right?”

Sheepishly, I give my most oblivious interjection to date: “Uhhhh…yeah.” I stutter out, and nod, curiously…“Yes.”

The King’s posture softens and he kneels down to be eye-level with me, but he’s still taller than I…should…be. “What do you desire to learn, little bird?” he asks gently. “I will answer whatever you think to ask…”

“What’s happened to me? I feel…different.” I proclaim.

“Oh” he begins. “As a result of the massive physical trauma you experienced during your crash it was necessary to…upgrade you in order to preserve your life--.”

“Upgrade!?” I repeat in shock. “W-what do you mean?” I stutter out.

“Well, it entailed some facial reconstructive surgery, the plating of your pulverized bones with Ivjinz’-steel, massive hormonal therapy to account for your nutrients deficiency, and…umm, well, you know, your height?” He says the last part as if not to offend me, despite the subject matter. “But think of it like this: you’re six-foot-seven now! No need to clamber up on shelves anymore, am I right?!”

“Wait…” In my astounded state I can only think to say “Was that in British-Imperial?”

The King smiles down at me with a “Yes!” he jubilantly exclaims. He then grabs me by the hand and brings me to the closest wall. “Would you like to see?”

I nod cautiously. The King loudly snaps his fingers and says: “Mirror, mirror…” the wall ripples and shifts into a perfect, almost archaic-styled silver mirror, revealing…me. To call me “upgraded” wouldn’t be inaccurate, aside from a handful of new scars covering my face where, apparently they stitched…it…back on, coupled with a new, long scar traveling up from my chin to my left nostril, I look…better. More handsome, stronger cheekbones, thicker eyebrows, better jaw-line, trendier haircut, wait…a trendier haircut? I hold my hand up to feel it, the bristles around the back and sides of my hair are so…soft, freshly shampooed, it seems. The top of my hair swoops forward and to the left, over my eye, exposing my right eye’s Martian legacy . Meanwhile the rest seems freshly shaved, which seem to be covered in some kind of esoteric patterns carved into the hair, paying special attention to a series of scars on my scalp... My right ear appears to be removed, with it replaced with some kind of hole in my head, I move to touch it but the King of Spades stops me…

“I, uhh, wouldn’t trifle with that if I were you…”

…Anyway, I soon notice that my body is, in and of itself, improved. My shoulders are broader, my neck thicker, my core and arms longer, my muscles may be a bit underdeveloped for my stretched frame, but I look more in shape than I have since the ship…with the old man…Pa? My thoughts drift until my gaze meanders to my new pelvis, and a first encounter my enlarged, immaculately ‘scaped, member!

My immediate reaction is to avert my eyes, but then I do a double-take, looking directly down to learn that this is no ruse. No trick of the mirror, in my improved state I’m absolutely hung!!

Hold on… it comes to my attention that I’ve been nude this entire time.

“Sooooooooo…” The King of Spades puts his hand on my shoulder, and asks playfully “Whadda ya think?!”

I don’t know what to say… I’m petrified by his expectation… until something eventually slips out…“WOW…I look good…and… naked”

“I know, right!?” The King seems pleased by my response. He then twirls around “NOW…” points with his long index finger, the darkened area indicated begins to light up, in row by row of lights “Let’s get you looking even better!” The final spotlight bursts to life, illuminating a finely embellished door which appears to be made out of ivory, with inlay white-gold scrollwork.

The King leads me by the arm like a child over to the door.

We reach the door and he swings it open to reveal an enormous walk-in closet “…You and I both need to get dressed! The festivities will soon be upon us!” There’s so much to unpack here…

“Ummm, aren’t you dressed?” I ask first, then: “Festivities?”

“Yes!” he excitedly retorts, then pauses, and says “Wait, no. I’m far from dressed, you busted out of your hospital room so fast I appeared as quick as I could, gave me no time to get dressed. These are merely my undergarments.” He continued with “Also, of course there are festivities, you are the first outsider to reach Paradise-One!! T’was quite the feat indeed, although you plummeted in the atmosphere and CRASHED most embarrassingly.” He pauses while I try and hold back my shocked expression. Clearly I do a poor job since The King makes a concerned face, and says “Oh no! You look most exasperated! We have all your things that survived the crash; they’re right over there, on that table…” He gestures across the room, jutting his arm out weirdly towards an elaborate table. Laid upon it is the remainder of my worldly possessions: a closed system Smart-Grain GPS, a Tri-Helix Thermostat, twelve phosphor flares, one-and-a-half ice axes, a canteen, thirty burnt “Admiral Juo’s VARIETY PACK!!” exploration rations, dad’s Springfield 2111 pistol and three fifty round magazines, my Zune, my jail-broke Uliu, and my survival knife. “…We incinerated your Black Box by the way… for our own safety...” The King adds casually.

“What?” I ask in abject shock at The King’s blatant disregard for my personal property “B-but…that was mine…” I manage to choke out… pitifully.

The King pats me on the head, “Now now, John… we won’t be having anymore of that…” The King waves his hand in front of my face, and [in some way] pacifies me, and wipes me into an inert state of mind.

“Ahh…Okay…” I eventually manage to choke out in this state of nebulous… intoxication.

“Oh! I almost forgot” he tells me while turning. He then glides up to me and shoves something into my open ear-hole, I shake, wobble, and then begin to “tune in” to the tech shoved into me:

“Hello …John Walker… I am your Answering Machine.” The strange, robotic voice tells me.

Needless to say, a lifetime of adults warning me about: “Don’t let strangers stick weird tech into your head” causes me to panic immediately, I run over to the nearest open wall

“Mirror!-Mirror!” I bark into the wall, I try again to open the mirror; I bang on the door until a large hand taps my shoulder…

“Mirror, mirror…” The mirror opens and I’m granted a view of a strange, black-ish box in the place of the odd head-hole I had to deal with before… “It’s merely a harmless radio John. Nothing to be frightened of…” he guides my hand up to the box and extends a small rectangular antennae from it, he then flicks down a small rectangular mouthpiece “For conversing with all the friends I’m sure you’ll make here on Olympus. Listen to your vast musical library. Or, you know…” he leans further in, whispering in my ear: “Set up some, romantic rendezvous” I recoil from this surprise breach in personal space, The King reacts negatively to my resistance. “What? Everyone on Paradise-One has one in them… for social purposes, of course.” I touch the smooth side of the device, investigating the simplistic buttons and stubby dial, until I think to ask:

“Then why don’t you have one?” I look up at him as he cocks one eyebrow.

He then laughs in my face, and counters with: “Oh John… come now, I wouldn’t be caught dead with that old model sticking out of my cranium. We just put it in you to get rid of the last of an obsolete design.” I look up at him dumbfounded, he returns with a concerned look. “What? Don’t believe me?” he proceeds to sweep back his long hair and grabs his left ear, twists it backwards, then pulls, revealing that his ear is in fact a fraud. A construct to house a larger, almost organic looking machine, behind the ear is what appears to be a platinum, metallic ring wrapped around the base of a glowing, fleshy ball, suspended in some kind of gyroscope made out of…ligaments and segmented bones. “See?” I don’t get a very good look at it however since he quickly slides it back into place, he then claps his hands together, and says, “We should really quit dallying; it’s awfully rude to keep one’s party guests waiting.”

He then waves his arms around to the mannequins surrounding us, all wearing various styles of extravagant outfits. “Please…” he begins “take your pick.” I eye the garments…

Many of them resemble pieces of my old Space-Corp. Space-Suit. Especially I notice that the boots are tailored to match my Mark V Pilot’s Boots, with their enormous, inflated, goofy soles. I attempt to stifle the laughter growing in me, and swallow it. I almost fail, but just in time distract myself with another question.

You’re majesty, The King of Spades, when am I to leave? “Mr. King of Spades, how will I get home?” Chokes out… I’m utterly embarrassed.

“Oh John, John…John… Why would you wish to leave?” The King of spades hovers closer to me, and he whispers: “you mustn’t worry about your former life…any-longer…!” He then slyly smiles, and twirls me back around to the clothes…

To be continued…