Thomas walked down the narrow streets of the eastern side of the Artemis Station. Trash littered the steel paths and shady merchants lined each side with haphazard market stands. This area was well known for its lack of human visitors and black market dealings, and it smelled like rancid meat.

“Untraceable photon laser rifles!” a vendor that looked like a humanoid fly shouted. “Cheapest guns in town!”

Avoiding eye contact, Thomas hurried past the pushy insect. He pulled his collar up and the visor of his baseball cap down to hide his face as he continued past the cat-like drug dealers called Khezals. Finally, he saw what he was looking for.

Turning down a dark alley off the main drag, Thomas crept up to a large booth ran by the Quixats. Three of the large mole-people stood behind the booth and peered at the dark/haired human that approached.

“Buying, selling, or leaving?” one of the Quixats spat when Thomas was within earshot.

“Umm… buying,” Thomas stuttered. He wiped his trembling hands on his pants and scanned the table.

Assorted goods ranging from exotic roots to rare minerals were protected by a glass display case. Rocks of every color glistened despite the dim lighting, and Thomas looked over each one with a frown. His shoulders dropped when he reached the end of the table.

“What were you hoping to find?” a second mole-person wheezed.

“I’ve heard of a never ending supply of food that isn’t sold for coin…” Thomas muttered. “It’s probably a myth.”

The three Quixats looked at each other and nodded. Two of them ducked into the building behind their booth while the third asked, “If you are looking for a never ending food supply, it will have a high price.”

“Right,” Thomas sighed. “My wallet is empty, I’m afraid.”

“Fortunately for you, we don’t accept coin.” Black beady eyes locked with Thomas’.

“How do I pay for it?”

“We charge for everything in the same way, although humans rarely buy from us…”

“Tell me what I have to do.”

“Memories are the currency we charge. Memories contain energy that we harvest, but not all memories are equal.”

“You need to copy my memories?”

“No, we take them. As we extract a memory, you will forget it.”

“I see… will any memory do?”

“A memory is only as valuable to us as it is to you. Unlimited food is quite expensive…” the large mole-person explained.

“What kind of memory do you need?” Thomas asked, wiping the cold sweat from his brow.

“Why have you come here? Humans never come here.”

“Does it matter to you why I’m here? Tell me what kind of memory you’ll need.”

“The price is high. If you don’t have a good reason to come this far, then it’s not worth telling you the price.”

“There is a good reason,” Thomas snapped. “But it’s none of your business. I just need you to deliver it to a home on the south side.”

Tilting his head and narrowing his eyes, the Quixat asked one question, “Do you have the address?”

Thomas took a folded piece of paper from his pocket, looked over his shoulder, and slid it to the merchant. The mole-person examined the paper and nodded. He motioned for his two companions to join him.

“Who is Melissa?” the shopkeeper asked as the other Quixats carried two boxes over to the booth.

“My wife,” Thomas grunted while one of the Quixat strapped a large metal helmet with flashing lights and various wires to his head.

“I see…” The last Quixat opened the second box and pulled out a scroll that he handed to Thomas. “This is a detailed list of the memories that will be taken. Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

Gasping, Thomas crumpled the scroll, shoved it in his pocket, and replied, “I have to. Show me the product.”

The third Quixat opened the wooden box to reveal what looked like three pumpkin seeds that were blue, red, and bright green. They had had the pleasant odor of fresh cut grass, and a few small sprouts spring from them the moment light touched them.

***

“What are these again?” Melissa questioned the three mole-people that randomly showed up at her house.

“Fyuqlage seeds,” one beady eyed shop keeper repeated. “They will grow wherever you plant them and produce fruits within ten minutes. After that, they should produce roughly 5 fruits a day per plant.”

“Okay… and we can eat this stuff?”

“Yes. Blue fruits are mostly water, but the red ones are high in protein and vitamins like a red meat while the green are similar to three servings of human fruits and vegetables.”

“That sounds too good to be true,” Melissa comments, narrowing her eyes at the aliens. “Why would you give these to us?”

“Quixats never give anything away, but we always honor contracts,” a shorter mole-person explained. “These seeds have been paid for.”

“Paid for? We don’t have any money…”

“Money is important to humans but not to us.”

“Then how did-“ Melissa froze when she saw Thomas stumble out of the Quixat spaceship.

“Thomas! What did they do to you?” Melissa called. Her husband stared at her with a blank expression before turning to walk away. “What did you do?” Melissa screamed at the aliens on her porch.

“We did nothing but collect our payment,” the tall Quixat sighed. “Now, we will take our leave.”

As the three mysterious figures disappeared into their ship, Melissa ran after Thomas. She grabbed his shoulders and shook him, but he shrugged her off.

“Don’t touch me!” Thomas cried.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Melissa stuttered.

“Honey? Who the hell are you?”

“Thomas, dear, I-“ Melissa paused as a crumpled scroll fell from her husband’s pocket.

“Infinite food for a family of four,” the scroll read. Eyes widening, Melissa wept when she read the price.

“It wasn’t worth it…” Melissa mumbled, hugging the uncomfortable man who had forgotten her and his children. “We would rather have you!”