Jonathan awoke on top of his own bed in his own apartment.

  It was hard to open his eyes, but he knew he had to, and he knew he was in some sort of trouble. If whatever happened was a dream, then he wouldn't have such a horrible pain in his side and head.

  He risked opening an eye to scope the situation.

  Self-preservation told him it was a bad idea to scream out at this point, but he was unable to suppress an audible gasp. He probably would have freaked out and jumped straight out the 2nd story window had his body functioned properly. Feeling was returning to his extremities, but slowly. Jonathan recalled a time he stood up too fast after getting blood drawn and fell on his face.

  A gargantuan creature in what looked like a brown hooded tarp was sitting next to what used to be Jonathan's office chair.

  The thing was pecking away at an old laptop, using chopsticks it must have raided from the kitchen — Jonathan reasoned this was because it could press four keys at once with one finger. A closer look revealed that the creature was built like a bodybuilder that studied sumo and had skin roughly the shade of an apple.

  Several thoughts went through Jonathan's agonizing noggin that you would likely expect from situations like these. Everything from an elaborate prank to an intruder that just so happened to have a very unlikely body type and serious sunburn on their rosacea.

  Jonathan quickly began stamping his "Have I really been abducted or is this all an elaborate hoax" bingo card.

  Red Delicious didn't look at all human, and if it was animatronic someone wasted way too much time and money just for his benefit. Is this really some sort of alien? If so, it must want him alive, but why?

  The creature grunted — which seemed first to be just out of frustration, but also seemed to be communicating with someone.

  After a quick inspection to make sure his parts were all in the right place, Jonathan groggily sat up. The beast turned to regard him and grunted a greeting:

  "READ."

  And then it shoved the laptop in his face. It had a note app open:

  "greeting to our new friend1 only hurt if scream put on hat to talk ple"

  That was as far as he got. For peck typing what may be an extremely foreign language, it did pretty well. C minus.

  Jonathan looked around for a hat. The first thing that went through his head was a picture of a top hat for some reason, before mentally chastising himself. The random thought occurred to him that he owned just as many top hats as any other kind of hat, which was none.

  He looked up to the brute for direction.

  It was in the process of gently lifting an apparatus off of its head — it looked like a laurel wreath, only without any leaves and a few long branches jutting out, pressing what looked like electrodes onto the top of the cheekbones.

  It proffered the "hat" to Jonathan, who slowly reached out and pulled it away, taking a long moment to stare at it and contemplate his fate. The monstrosity impatiently did his best "dumb person putting on a hat" mime routine.

  Jonathan squeezed it, twisted it a little. It was extremely light but seemed incredibly strong... Which is good, because everyone involved would've been in a lot of trouble if it broke. He turned it around, took a deep breath, and slowly lowered it onto his head.

  He was expecting… well, he didn't know what he was expecting. He knew he wasn't in Tron, and didn't feel like his mind was being controlled, so no harm done.

  Random thought — would he know if his mind was being controlled?

  "Mr. Jonathan R Rivers, we meet at last!"

  Jonathan quickly turned to see a new figure sitting in his combination recliner/day-old clothes rack. The man looked odd — that is to say he dressed like Jonathan pictured a man of leisure from the early 1900s. He had curly blond hair, and was kicked back in a silk robe and blue bunny slippers. Jonathan was surprised he wasn't smoking a pipe, reading a paper, and pontificating from a place of privilege about how easy kids have it these days.

  "I'm sure you've already guessed, we're not from around here! My large friend and I need some help retrieving a special item that was left at your workplace."

  He held out his hand and what appeared to be a particularly bulbous fertility idol showed up in his palm. Jonathan recognized it as something that likely belonged in a museum, just like… the one… he was contracted to test…

  The absurd train of thought pulled into station that this was all simply a misunderstanding. Jonathan's mouth hopped on, unfortunately leaving his brain baggage on the platform.

  "Oh, I think I see what's going on — I don't actually work for the museum. Well, not directly. I'm a penetration tester."

  The gentleman looked at him with a bit of confusion. "Apologies, translation issue. You test what?"

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  Jonathan was back on a track he'd ridden many times before. He'd had to explain that title to many a family member, to a point where his response was well rehearsed.

  "A penetration tester is somebody who is hired by a company to test their security — trying to break in or penetrate their defenses."

  The gentleman opened his mouth and raised his finger as if to say something, then paused.

  "That's very interesting! So, is it safe to assume that when we kidnapped you, you had already completed this... penetration?"

  Jonathan noted the direct phrasing and took a moment to think of a response.

  "Yes, you could say that, though I'm not at liberty to discuss that — it wouldn't be ethical to…"

  Jonathan trailed off. It felt silly giving a spiel about confidentiality to a literal alien. Especially one with an accomplice that could easily fold him like a newspaper, back or forward.

  Sir Alien was quick to fill the silence.

  "I'm sorry, could you do me a 'solid' and pass the 'hat' back to the big guy?"

  Jonathan found the person's use of air quotes to be only a little condescending. He took off the hat, which made the gentleman disappear — confirming his suspicion of some sort of augmented reality.

  Amazing technology from human standards. There was no lens; just wearing the thing made the guy show up. Jonathan kept fairly up to date on technology and knew that something like that was still out of reach for… well, then again, technology had some crazy leaps recently.

  Jonathan snapped out of his thought space and handed the device back, motioning for the big guy to put it back on, mimicking the same gesture from before — only with considerably more exaggeration.

  It seems that sarcasm was a galactic language. The big guy made a chuff sound, as well as a decent attempt at raising an eyebrow.

  A grunted conversation ensued:

  "Do me a favor. Look angrily at him, up and down as if you're getting ready to smash him flat."

  "What did he say?"

  "Don't worry about that. Now increase agitation levels by about 15 percent. Higher, higher…"

  "Can you just tell me what is going on — is he going to be useful or should we just let him go? You know I do not feel good about kidnapping."

  "I'm attempting shrewd business tactics. We have a captive audience right now, so really give him a show. That's right, show some teeth."

  "You are really starting to annoy me."

  "Good! Use that! Perfect! Now throw a piece of furniture."

  "No."

  "Spoil sport. Okay, listen. You're not going to believe this…"

  The hopefully jolly red giant quickly adopted a more appraising look, as if sizing Jonathan up — which caused Jonathan to regret his childish gesture and shrink into himself.

  After a few moments of back and forth, Big Red appeared to grow increasingly agitated at something. Jonathan was just hoping it wasn't him.

  Eventually he passed back the hat.

  While Jonathan was afraid to put it back on, he was more afraid of what would happen if he didn't. He didn't spend too much time hesitating — in fact, he was already thoroughly geeking out about the technology and trying to figure out how it worked.

  Jonathan quickly donned the device, causing the gentleman to reappear. He was on the other side of the room now — or the avatar of him was, anyway. He had noticeably changed his appearance, this time to mimic Jonathan. His hair was combed to the side, and he was wearing a close approximation of a polo shirt with some weird emblem on it that Jonathan didn't recognize — but then, he'd been to plenty of vendor booths at various conferences that had logos considerably harder to decipher.

  "Jonathan, we both admire your code of ethics, and your incredible bravery in the face of the unknown! Most would see a gigantic and clearly irritable brute from another world and immediately capitulate, offering up even their deepest secrets for fear of becoming a paste and/or smear. That takes true character! Let me elucidate you as to why we're interested in this object."

  A window opened in front of Jonathan, as if he was browsing the internet on a VR headset. It showed the museum website, featuring the "Art of Life: Fertility and Creation Across Cultures" exhibit.

  Unbeknownst to Jonathan, he was talking to a being known as a "Replicant Executive" — a sort of mix between an advanced AI and a CEO persona, with all that entails. The major difference, though, is that unlike Earth CEOs, these beings have at least some moral restrictions in place. For example, this unit does not have the ability to lie.

  To a truly ambitious liar, however, the inability to literally lie can be a thrilling challenge.

  After a few moments the screen closed and the gentleman began again.

  "I'd like to run an ethical situation by you. Would you agree that items procured by a museum by way of pillaging from other cultures belong to the museum — or do you think they should belong to the culture, or species, of origin?"

  "Well, obviousl—"

  "Let's expand this a little bit. What if the object wasn't even art at all, but was in fact the mummified remains of a long-lost ancestor to an ancient and sentimental emperor who just happens to be from another planet? Wouldn't it be right to return the dead to their homeland for proper funerary rites?"

  Jonathan looked at the bulbous carving. This thing looked like it could be no bigger than a pineapple without the absurd proportions — it'd probably be potato-sized. He was having doubts about this story.

  "Are you sure tha—"

  "Before you answer, I'd like to show you something. Please go get your computer and open it to this website address."

  A shortened URL appeared in Jonathan's vision. He thought for a second about how bad of an idea it was to go to a foreign link, but was also familiar with a seldom-used tool in a social engineer's toolbox — gratuitous violence — and figured it was best to do as asked.

  Jonathan went to his desk, opened his laptop, and typed in the address. A crypto exchange came up and asked for a wallet ID and password, which were also displayed on screen. Jonathan took the time to type the info into a notepad so he could paste it into the login screen without fear of mistyping.

  He then pasted and logged in.

  It took him a moment to count the place of the digits on screen. He took the wreath on and off to see if it was a trick via augmented reality. When the numbers didn't change, he started to sweat.

  Jonathan was ethical, but who on this — or any other — world is that ethical?

  "So you want me to go back in and steal this? Couldn't you just buy the whole exhibit?… or the whole museum?"

  "The idea came up, but we really don't want to draw attention, and we've got a pretty strict deadline."

  While the man was talking, Jonathan was furiously quintuple-checking the account he was given. He tried several browsers, even opening the site in a disposable virtual machine — which he realized he probably should have done first. He did anything he could think of to prove this was a real wallet with a real fortune. He refused to be taken in by a foreign prince scam, no matter how foreign the prince in question was.

  Time and again, the wallet showed the same amount, from a legitimate crypto exchange. Well, as legitimate as any crypto exchange is anyway.

  "Must be a really strict deadline."

  The gentleman half-chuckled. "You have no idea. Anyway, all you would need to do is go in, grab the item, and bring it back to my friend here. We'll drive you right over — you can hop out and take care of it."

  "I guess I don't really have a choice."

  "That's the spirit!" the stranger exclaimed. "Which reminds me — can you help us take care of some errands on the way?"