After dining I decided it would be a good idea to lay in some supplies. I mosied down the strip, peering in here and there at the various offerings of the merchants.
I came to a store called Marc's that looked promising. I entered and soon found myself in a befuddling array of aisles filled with eye aching phalanxes of brightly colored packaging, fresh fruit, and dead animals processed into what I presumed were edible delicacies. Other aisles held bottles of chemicals for a thousand uses, voodoo medicines, implements for cleaning or, perhaps, torture(or maybe both), baby care products, and all manner of trinkets and wampum. Cases were stacked with cans and bottles of the industrialized sewer water that passes for beverages here.
Signs extolling the cheapness of various brands were plastered everywhere.
I browsed the dead meat aisle. It was filled with ground animals mixed with spices and formed into rolls of variuous sorts. Sometimes three or four packages named the same item from different companies.
Now why, I wondered, would they need to have many firms make the same thing? Smoked sausage was smoked sausage, right?
Curious, I put several brands of the same type of meat in my card. Did this for 3-4 different meats.
Ground, baked grains. Bread.
This was, I think, even worse. Must have been 8 different brands of bread plus an assortment of rolls, buns, and sweets. I controlled myself here and picked up a single loaf.
Frozen foods
Bags and packs of various processed items. I decided at first to pass, then noted what appeared to be a confection called ice cream. I hadn't tried any of the sweets here yet and decided to take a plunge. Ths apes seemed to like colorful so I picked out a green ice cream with black bits spread throughout. Mint chocolate chip the box read.
Prepackaged foods.
I read a few boxes and cans. I noted the vast array of chemcial additives, most of which were multisyllabic gibberish that hadn't been in our English studies. I wondered if the native apes eating this stuff had any better idea what they were. I grabbed some boxes of spahgetti, some spghetti suace, which I had cleverly surmised went with the spaghetti, some beef stew, canned veggies and prepared to leave.
A year here, I feared, might require 6 months of detox back home.
At the checkout there were 3-4 people in each line I picked one and after about 10 minutes got to the register. A dark skinned she ape examined each package I had and entered the price manually on an onerous and complicated looking contraption dotted with rows of cryptic looking buttons.
"$52.43," she requested blandly.
In order to function in this society our techie people had hacked into the banking systems and set up funded accounts and credit cards for those of us conducting humanity's evaluation. I had paid my rent by check. I had used my credit card without incident at Abba's earlier. Having field tested it on that smaller purchase, I whipped it out confidently again.
"I'm sorry, sir," she said, " to keep our costs low we only take cash."

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GOT LATKAS?

I awoke in mid morning, sunshine and warmth embracing my sleeping area through the small window over the bed. I completed my morning rituals, descended down the stairs and into the outdoors. I took in the telltale smell of burning hydrocarbons mixed with the scent of spring spores. Pollen, they call it.
I noted that one car was gone, the remaining grey chariot being parked in the garage. I presumed the young apes were in one of those instituitions of indoctrination called schools and that one of the adults was still home.
I returned to the rear foyer and knocked on the downstairs door to the first level. A few seconds later Jim answered.
"Hi, Mr Frazzi," greeted the big ape. "What can I do for ya"
Well. I haven't had a chance to do any shopping and I was wondering if there was a good place to eat around here somewhere?"
"Well, this time of day you might try Abba's", Jim suggested. "They're over at the plaza a couple blocks down."
He gave me directions and I thanked him.
"Anytime, Mr. Frazzi"
"Just call me Frazzi" I called back as I trooped down the drive.
I walked the 2 blocks to the plaza, noting the houses, the wide variety of designs. I understood the dwellings in this community were of modest size, but I found the unique mishmash of styles fascinating. We are far more utilitarian than artistic on my world and wondered if this display of individuality was something I should consider significant.
The plaza itself was filled with stores on both sides of a larger street that would be, I was sure, worthy of future exploration. For now I scanned the plaza, searching for Abba's, which proved to be halfway down the strip on my side. I strode onward, noting the large variety of vehicles flowing along the central street. Again I was struck by the variety. Cars, they are called, in all colors, shapes and sizes. I don't think I saw 2 the same in the 2 minutes it took me to reach the restaurant.
I came to Abba's and opened the glass door. There was a small entry area and several dining areas. One was a closed off room, the other a mix of tables and booths In a common dining room. In the latter 2 older apes were discussing something in a language that I could not understand. In a booth a mother and child were eating, the child pestering her for some toy or another.
A young he ape approached me. He was slender, in a white shirt and black slacks. On his brown maned head he wore a grey and white skullcap of cloth. Yamahas, I think they call them.
" One?" He asked.
I nodded.
He showed me to a booth, left a menu, said "I'll be right back," and briskly headed to the kitchen. I reviewed the offerings on the menu until he returned a few moments later with a glass of water laced with the popular chemical additives of the locality.
"Ready to order?" He asked matter of factly.
"Yes. I'll try the latkas and matzah soup."
He wrote the order down on a paper pad, thanked me, took my menu and returned to the kitchen.
I bided my time waiting by looking out the window, watching the world. Passers by flowed in a regular stream in front of the eatery. No 2 dressed the same. A variety of color and style. Beyond, the cavalcade of cars continued up and down the road. Rickety technology dependent on an ever decreasing fuel supply.
Form over substance, to be sure.
It was very confusing.
Soon my plate of latkas and bowl of sou[ (a large matzah ball swimming in a broth}. "Anything else I can get you?" asked the male.
I shook my head. "No thanks," and he again departed.
I sampled first the soup and then the latkas. The soup was good, though I personally think I prefer Brandelk Wedding Soup, as can only be found in the finest taverns of the Lazli systems. This was close though. Then I tried the latkas.
Heaven!
Bliss!
Never have I tasted such a crispy gourmet treat!
I wolfed them down and called the waiter over.
"Yes?'
'More latkas!" I demanded! "And please leave the menu".
He left the menu and trotted off to get me more latkas. I reviewed the menu one more time while finishing my soup.
The waiter soon returned with another plate of latkas. "Will that ne all ,sir?"
"I think so. I replied, "but I'm curious. This matzah ball. What do you do with the rest of the matzah?"
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SETTLING IN= THE TRILOGY CONCLUDES

Jim let the way through the kitchen (unsurprisingly the sink was filled with several days dishes, the stove buried in pots and pans) and through a door to a small hallway. The hall was lit by a single, naked low watt bulb. A door led out, a stairway down into the murkiness of the basement, and another stairway up.
Jim stopped, turned and removed a key from his pocket. "Here" he said, handing me the key. "Please ne sure to keep the door locked. The washer and drier are in the basement. feel free to use 'em, but not late at night, ok?"
"Of course"
We proceeded up and through the door. We entered a small suite oi rooms.Jim showed me around. A living area, kitchenette, sleeping area, bath and closet. There were old but servicible pieces of furniture throughout. there was even an old television hooked into a cable line in the living area.
"If you need anything else, just let me know," offered Jim
"Thanks," I replied. "I think I'm set."
He again held out his forepaw and I shook it.. "Bye, now" he said, and exited, closing the door behind him.
I opened my sole bag and removed my clothes and equipment. They were, of course, in their transmuted state. As the monkey boys top scientists were just beginning to discover, as you decreased space, the more the laws of physics break down. Go small enough and you can manipulate laws and change the physical attributes of matter itself.
I took a small device that looked like a small flashlight from my pocket. I pointed it at my pile of stuff and pressed one of two buttons. A shimmer shone for a second around my things and -Poof-
they sprang back into regular space time as usuable, normal goods.
I hung the clothing in the small closet and set up my info and comunication system on a desk in the living room.. They were disguised to look wlike a standard Earth computer and mini stereo system.
I plopped into a chair, noted a remote on the end table next to me, and after playing with the buttons a few times, managed to turn on the tv. A small whelp named Beaver was getting himself into a juvenile jam, His brother dug him in deeper, his Mom didn't know what to do about the trouble her Beaver was in, and Dad dug him out of the mess with syrupy warmth and wisdom.
Beaver Cleaver,
How had they ever got that past the censors of it's day?
A small question, and unimportant in the face of what this world faced.
Out in space a 2000 foot long piece of rock is hurting through the clutter of this solar system. In four years time it would be ripping a swathe of fiery destruction through the atmosphere and plunge into the southern pole. It was as yet undetected by these furless apes. Worse, they lacked the technology to destroy it or alter it's course.
Doomsday.
Unless we intervened.
But should we?
I. and others like me, have settled in on this world. To study. To evaluate.
Would mankind eventually develop into a worthy member of the Confederation. Prove a possible future threat? Or just be a meaningless footnote in the Galactic trash bin.
We will see.

DAY ONE-SETTLING IN CONTINUED

Jim led the way into the dining room. Equally crowded with a table, chairs, piano and,more bookcases, i was beginning to see clutter as a lifestyle.
Jim, and Gail seated themselves and I followed suit.
I had supplied references earlier and of course they had checked out. I had monitered the communications from their primiive telecom system from my skimmer and robustly praised myself via the ship's AI. Still there was the ritual interview to make sure I wasn't going to eat the childern or steal the family silver.
"So," began Gail, " you're British?"
"Er, yes," I replied with a little hesitation. " How did you know?"
She giggled a little. "Your accent. It's a lttle obvious"
I knew all of us shouldn't be using the same recordings to learn English. Broadcasts from London were the norm for all of us studying this world. After all, what better peopele to learn English from than the English, reasoned the Powers That Be. I had pointed out it was a fractured. regionalized planet, but laziness or perhaps budget constaints won out.
"Frazzi? Isn't that an Italian name? asked Jim.
"Yes," I confirmed. "My mother was Italian, my father was English."
The apes both looked puzzled.
"So how did you get your mother's sirname?'
It's a long story," said I, looking for a way to tapdance. I noticed what I recognized as a red guitar hanging on the wall. I nodded toward it. "Do you play?"
Nothing like appealling to a monkey boy's ego to get the subject changed.
" A bit," he smiled with something of a false modesty. Jim got up and took the guitar. He sat back down and began playing. After a few chords came the singing. The playing was better, but I listened politely, smiling, as I noted Gail was doing.
Alexander burst throiugh the kitchen and squealed "Stop singing!"
"Ok," agrewed Jim, who halted his songfest entirely. Xander dashed back out. "For some reason Xander just won't let me sing, " explained Jim as he returned the instrument to it's wall brace.
"Imagine that," I commiserated. "Well, where were we?"
The ritual interview continued and I managed to avoid anymore potentially embarassing situations. A shaking of forepaws and an exchange of money and Jim offered to show me to my quarters..

Day one- settling in

I rang the bell. A moment later the white door before me swung open.Before me stood one big monkey boy. Easily 6 foot 6, tipping the scales at 300 and plenty, i'm sure, with a grey furcap still full growing on top of his head. From within i could here the blaring of multiple televisions.
"You must be Mr. Frazzi," he said. "I'm Jim."
"Yes," I replied. "Im here about the third floor"
"Sure, come on in."
Jim opened the door wider and beckoned me to enter. I stepped inside, thru the small foyer and into the living room. I noted it was jammed. A couch, 2 large chairs, desk with 2 office chairs, some side end tables. entertainment center, 2 tvs (a small one sat on an end table) bookcase, and more. I was reminded of the nest homes of the Millisacs of Bransta. Cluttered, yet somehow in place. Disorganized, but appropriate somehow.
A she-ape stood in the entry way between this room and another I could could not quite see into.
This is my wife, Gail," introduced Jim.
"Hi," greeted the she ape, baring her fangs in greeting. Of all the worlds I've been on, only on Earth do the inhabitants bare fangs to show happiness, joy, welcome. It's a little unnerving and takes a bit of getting used to.
The she ape was less then half the size of her male counterpart with hair best described as reddish black. Like females of many species she was brightly garbed in a red top and pinkish pants. Mating rituals on this planet are bit undefined and vary wildly. Was she looking to attract a second, mate i wondered, or was this a norm?
"Hello," I returned.
"Who are you" chirped a little voice. On one of the chairs, before the television on the end table, bounced an ape whelp. He was a bit pudgy, with black fur on his head and noticibly browner skin than his more lightly complected parents.
Jim said, "This is Edwin. He's adopted from Guatemala." He turned to the young ape. "Edwin, this is Mr. Frazzi. He wants to see the third floor"
"Are you going to live here?" queried Edwin, his fangs bared in a hideously big grin.
"Maybe," I smiled back, hoping I wasn't showing an imapprpriate amount of fang.
Next to the door a staircase led upward. Bounding down the staircase came another boy ape, light skinned like his parents, with brownish fur and notibly skinnier than Edwin.
'Hi," I greeted the boy.
"Hiiiiii!" he returned, drawing the word out in an unnatural manner. He waved one of his arms around with almost careless abandon. Intended as a wave, I presumed. Then he dashed back up the staircase.
"That's Xander. Alexander, actually," explained Jim. He's autistic and doesn't quite understand the social niceties."
A typical American family to study and a base to work from. This was looking like a good deal for a Xenosociologist from another world.
A pity they were unaware of the Doom that was destined.....