A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Chaos: A New World
Edo-chan
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A New World
A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Chaos Series
Book 1
Copyright © 2012 Edo-chan
First Published January 2013
Revised February 2014
Cover Illustration by Sexy Kat
https://sexy-kat.deviantart.com/
https://www.edo-hrzic.com/
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of an Offer!
Chapter Two
Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Tenants!
Chapter Three
Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of a Library!
Irish Stew
Chapter Four
Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Silver!
Chapter Five
Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Working!
Chapter Six
Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Neighbors!
Chapter Seven
Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Phoning Home!
Chapter Eight
Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of More Training!
Chapter Nine
Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Driving!
Talsenia
Chapter Ten
Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Conflict!
Chapter Eleven
Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Halloween!
Chapter Twelve
Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of Interviews!
Pumpkin Croquettes
Afterword
Chapter One
Or, A (Not So) Healthy Dose of an Offer!
Kenaeth Goldwrite was watering plants on the red wooden deck behind his house. It was a July summer: hot, not to mention humid. It had rained a few days earlier, but the mugginess just wouldn’t go away.
Since he was outside, he had the radio on to listen to through an open window in the dining room. He had a talk radio station on, and it had broken for a commercial. Ken used that as a signal to take a break from watering for a while. He looked at his watch and realized it was noon, and decided to stop longer for lunch.
He pulled a hand towel off of his shoulder and wiped his brow. He noticed his reflection in the glass of one of the windows. His red hair was too dark for summer, and since childhood it had absorbed an abnormal amount of sunlight. His hair was getting a little too long for his taste, and he made a mental note to get it cut soon.
A bulletin chimed in as a commercial.
“Have you ever thought about sharing your culture with others that know little about Earth? Have you thought about someone from another planet, and learning about them? The Earth-Entine Planetary Commission is starting a program for otherworlders from planets in the Entine Republic to stay on Earth. Representatives will be in your area soon. Here’s your chance to make a positive impression on those from galaxies far away!”
Aliens.
The way the story went, aliens – or ‘otherworlders’ was the appropriate term – made themselves known to Earth about five years prior. They were from a galactic conglomerate known as the Entine Republic. It was back when he was twenty and in his second year of college. Ken remembered it quite well, since news and interviews were broadcast on every news outlet for weeks.
Ken didn’t really care about aliens being on Earth. As long as they followed the rules and didn’t cause trouble, it didn’t matter to him. They could live next door for all he cared. He only cared about making a living. He wasn’t working for various reasons, so money was a bit tight. He had some inheritance left over from when his parents passed away, but even that wouldn’t last forever.
Ken looked up at the sky. Going into outer space might have been really spectacular. One teenager from around the same area Ken was living in was chosen as the first to go up when the aliens came knocking on the door of planet Earth. He’d been about three years younger than Ken at the time.
To Ken, life was boring.
He shrugged, mourning his no-luck life. He scanned his big back yard, realizing he would have to mow it in a day or so, along with the front yard. That caused him to remember he needed to go to Misses Ling’s house, his next door neighbor, and mow her front and back yards as well.
He went right from the deck though the back door directly into the kitchen to make some lunch. He decided on a sandwich, a little macaroni and cheese, and a drink.
Pulling the macaroni and cheese box out of the pantry caused him to knock over some junk mail he had set on the counter next to the stove. He pulled out the box, bent down, and picked up the mail. He tossed it toward the trash can, after mentally complaining to himself that they should at least write his name correctly. Most of the junk mail he received was addressed to ‘Kenneth Goldwrite.’ Most people tried to pronounce his first name that way, but his parents wanted the name for their first child to sound unique, so it was pronounced ‘Ken-eighth.’
He’d opened the box and was about to dump the macaroni into the boiling water when he heard the doorbell. He considered ignoring it when he heard the bell for the second time.
“Always when I’m in the middle of something,” he muttered.
He turned the burner off and walked down the stairs to the landing of his split-foyer home and opened the door after the third ring of the doorbell.
A woman with black hair and dressed in a dark blue business suit was standing on his welcome mat. She was holding a briefcase. Ken thought she was nuts for wearing dark clothing on a hot summer day.
“Good afternoon,” she said, giving him a bright smile.
“Good afternoon,” he said back, with no smile. “What can I do for you?”
“I was wondering—”
“I’m not interested in buying anything,” Ken cut her off.
“No, I’m not here to sell anything—”
“Not interested in any surveys, either.”
“It’s . . . not entirely a survey,” she said, getting a little flustered.
“Okay. What is it?”
“Have you considered opening your home as part of an exchange program?”
“Exchange program?”
“Yes, the Entine Interplanetary Exchange.”
Ken remembered the radio commercial from earlier. “Oh. The aliens, right?”
“Yes. The exchange program is going to be in full swing in the next few months. Of course, participants are looking for cultural immersion and experience—”
“Not interested,” Ken cut her off again.
“I see,” she responded, sadly. “Thank you for your time,” she said with another smile. Ken knew it was forced. She turned and walked back down the sidewalk.
Ken had his own problems. Taking care of the house, looking for work, doing his best with what little he had. If he had problems taking care of himself, how could he even consider showing someone the ropes on planet Earth? The empty house was a hassle in and of itself.
Empty?
Ken reflected back on what he had thought to himself earlier in the day: Life was boring.
He opened the screen door and saw the woman as she headed around the side of the house to the driveway.
“Wait!” he shouted.
She peeked her head back around to respond. “Yes?”
“I’ve reconsidered.”
* * *
Ken handed her a cup of coffee. “Here you go, Miss . . . speaking of which, I didn’t get your name.”
“Nanaia. Thank you.” She took the cup. “You didn’t have to go through the trouble of making any.”
Ken sat down on the sofa across from her seat. “I already had a pot brewing, so it’s no trouble.” He took a sip from his
own cup. “Now, what is this exchange program about? I mean, there’s got to be more to it than the little introduction you give when knocking on people’s doors.”
“Quite right. I’m honestly not sure about every detail myself.”
“Come again?”
“I’m a realtor. I was handed this assignment about three days ago. My name was given to someone higher up on the food chain, since I know this area.”
Ken let the skepticism show on his face.
“Hey, don’t give me that look. I’ve read through the material. It’s actually not that different than a normal exchange program.”
“Never been in one, so I can’t relate. But you would think there’re a lot of logistics involved. Languages, passports – or what they use for passports – etcetera.”
“Probably. But that’s beyond the scope of what I’m here for. I’ve only been asked to find prospective lodging.”
“I see. Is there an application or anything?”
Nanaia opened her briefcase and pulled out a folder and a small stack of paper, stapled together. “This is the application, and an introductory guide.” She passed them over the coffee table.
Ken took them, reached to the side of the sofa, and picked up a thick, hardbound art book to write on, and then he leaned over and grabbed a pen from the coffee table. He flipped through the application. “Doesn’t seem to be too many questions on it.”
“Well, this is just the first step. I’ll hand over the applications to one of the coordinators, and after compiling the entries, a selection process will narrow down the candidates.”
“Seems simple enough. Just information about my house, right?”
“Yes. Number of rooms, bathrooms, and living areas.”
“Let’s see. Four open rooms, two open bathrooms, one with bath and shower.”
“Wow. That many rooms?”
“Yeah. My father did some remodeling years back.”
“I see. Where might your parents be?”
“They passed away a number of years ago.”
Nanaia went silent. “I’m . . . sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s not a problem. I’ve gotten over it. Well, I do have a younger sister.”
“Where is she?”
“Somewhere in Europe spending whatever money she received in the inheritance. But for all I know, she could be on the west coast, and married with three kids.”
She gave him a confused look.
“We lost touch after my parents passed on. Plus, we were never that close to begin with.”
“I see,” she fumbled with the words, regretting opening up the can of worms known as Ken’s family history.
“Done,” Ken said as he signed his name and dated the last page. He handed the application back to her, and put the art book on the cushion next to him.
She looked over the application. “Do you pronounce your name ‘Kenneth’?”
“No. It’s ‘Ken-eighth.’ You know, like the number. If you don’t mind me asking, how many applications have you received?”
She sighed. “Truthfully speaking, you’re the first one.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I was getting pretty worried that I wouldn’t find anyone.”
Ken leaned back. “Well, you have to take it from the perspective that most people don’t even want people they don’t know from their own planet staying with them, so people from another planet would be out of the question.”
“I guess you do have a point. But tell me something.”
“Fire away.”
“Why did you reconsider?”
“Dunno.” Ken continued. “Maybe a dose of chaos would be good for me.”
“If that’s what you think, I’m not going to complain.” She put the application into her briefcase, and snapped it shut. “It should be about two months before you hear anything.”
Ken shrugged. “I’m not getting my hopes up.”
She stood. “Thank you for the coffee. I should be moving on now. I appreciate your time.”
“Good luck on the rest of the search. I’ll show you out.”
They walked down the stairs, and Ken closed and locked the door after she left.
A dose of chaos. He looked for a reason that he had filled out the application, but couldn’t find one other than he was simply looking for something to fill the void.
It was strange. The house seemed even emptier when the woman left.
Ken sighed and went back to making lunch.
* * *
Ken went next door to the house of a dear neighbor, Misses Ling. She had helped him out when his parents passed on, and she had lost her husband around the same time. Her two children were grown and had left the family home years ago. He had visited her home many times when he was younger, but didn’t often have much contact with her children, since they were far older than he was. They made visits two or three times a year, around Christmas and Misses Ling’s birthday.
She and Ken both lived alone, and relied on each other, and she took to him like he was her son. He went over to her house when she needed help, which usually consisted of odd jobs around her home, fixing things, moving furniture around, mowing the lawn, and the like. Ken was by no means a handyman, but did what he could for her.
He checked the house and saw her car wasn’t there, so he started the ritual he did every week and a half during the summer: he checked the gas in her riding lawn mower, filled it up if there was a need, and mowed the back yard.
It took him less time than he thought, and since it was still hot out, took a break underneath the shade of the umbrella on the table on her back patio. Thinking back on it, he should have waited until later in the day so it wouldn’t have been so hot.
He heard the back door slide open, and he glanced back to see Misses Ling. She was an older, refined woman with an Asian complexion. She always wore dresses, and her face was framed by red glasses, her hair pulled up into a bun. Some acquaintances of Ken’s had commented she had a stern look about her, but he had never seen anything other than a soft expression when she talked to him.
She was carrying a tray with two tea-filled glasses, and a hand towel on it.
He nodded to her. “Good afternoon, Misses Ling. Did you get back while I was mowing?”
“That I did, dear,” she said, placing the tray on the table and handing him the towel.
“Thanks.” Ken took the cool, damp towel and wiped his face.
“I needed to do a little shopping. I pulled in when you were behind the house. It’s rather hot today, so I knew you’d need a drink.”
Ken took one of the glasses and sipped the ice tea from it. “Say, a lady was in the neighborhood and stopped by about an exchange program. Did she stop by your house?”
Misses Ling shook her head. “I was out for some time today. What’s this about an exchange program?”
“It looks like aliens will be staying with families around the country. Like a home stay, or something like that.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of having anyone else stay in my house. It’s enough to take care of one young man who lives next door.”
“I think the same about the lady living next to me.”
She laughed. “And she stopped by to see if you wanted to offer your house to aliens?”
“She was looking for prospective homes, so that’s pretty much it in a nutshell.”
“What did you tell her?”
Ken took another drink of his tea. “I filled out an application.”
Misses Ling smiled. “It seems like something you would do.”
“Come again?”
“What I mean is, you’re always helping someone else out with something. I wish you’d be a little more selfish, but then again, that’s why you’re so dependable.”
“If you say so.”
“Then there will be someone from another planet staying at your house?
”
Ken shrugged. “I’m not sure. It was just an application. She said the commission would be in touch. I don’t know anything else.”
“It would certainly be exciting.”
“A change, at the very least.”
Ken finished the last of his iced tea, and put it back on the tray along with the towel. “Thank you for the tea, Misses Ling.” He stood up and held out his hand, which she had taught him a long time ago to do for a lady. “Since it’s hot out, do you mind if I finish the front lawn later on?”
Misses Ling took his hand, using it to rise from her seat. “That will be fine, dear.”
She went into the pocket of her dress, pulled out an envelope, and put it into his hand.
He knew what it was, and shook his head. “I can’t take that, Misses Ling.”
“Take it, dear.”
“If you insist,” Ken acquiesced.
She smiled again, and took the tray back into the house.
Ken opened the envelope to find two-hundred dollars. She did things like that. She knew his money wouldn’t last forever, and her offering would at least stem the tide. The money would help pay for the utilities and food.
“You’re too good to me, Misses Ling,” he whispered.
* * *
It was about two months later when he heard a reply. It was morning and Ken had been going through his canned goods in the kitchen pantry when the phone rang. He went to the living room to pick up the cordless phone.
“Hello. Goldwrite residence.”
“Would you be Kenaeth Goldwrite, who filled out the Entine Interplanetary Exchange lodging application?” a female voice came over the phone.
“Yes, that would be me.”
“Good! My name is Amelta Tayon. I’m with the selection committee.”
“I do have to commend you for getting my name right on the first try.”
“Nanaia, the lady who took your application, wrote the pronunciation down for me. Did I catch you at a bad time per chance?”
“Talking with you beats going through canned goods any day of the week.”
“Good! The reason I’ve called is two-fold. One, I’m pleased to tell you that you’ve been selected as one of the finalists in the program.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Second, I’m already in the area viewing some other applicants, so would it be too much trouble for me to stop by so that I could see the premises first hand?”
