Why am I here?
The question comes to you as you dry off a dish from the dishwasher, making it cleaner and more presentable than yourself. Obviously, there are a number of different ways you could answer this question. You are here in the United States of America because you were born here and never had a reason to leave. You are in the small but rapidly developing city of Miller's Corner because your parents decided to move here when you were two in order to be closer to extended family. But right now you want to know specifically why you are in the kitchen of Classic Times Bar and Grill. A good enough answer, you suppose would be that it is your job, and therefore you are expected to be there a certain number of hours each week and work there washing dishes. If you don't do this you will have no source of income, and therefore be forced to move out of your rented apartment. Simple enough.
The hours go by. The kitchen always remains busy and you don't really have time to rest. Well, even if you did, it wouldn't look good to your boss. Worse yet, you are alone on the dishwasher tonight, which means that there is no one you can reliably chat with while working. Given how busy it is you wouldn't be likely to be able to really hold any interesting discussions, but it would've been nice just to have someone by your side. Still, you make it through the night and are just about to clean up when the mildly attractive waitress comes into the kitchen and says, "A party of ten just came in." Fuck! Of course you don't say this out loud. As you look back at the waitress, she makes eye contact with you a second before looking away. That face of hers is clearly upset, but there are no tears and she holds a dignified aura about her. Hm.
Regardless, you and the rest of the kitchen staff have work to do so you get to it. The chatter of the kitchen has completely stopped at this point. No words unrelated to your current jobs are said. Your restaurant closes its doors at 10 PM. You don't leave till 1. Nothing to be said for it. You drive home, the only sounds when you get back to your apartment being your footsteps walking up to your door. When you open it, you can feel it nudge against something on the ground. Looking down you see a small perfect sphere. It is black as the night outside. Good thing you turned on your lights. Curious, you bend down to pick it up and -
The second you touch it you get an excruciating headache for a less than a second and then the pain disappears entirely. Somehow you know this...thing will answer a question. Any question at all.
What question will you ask?
[] Write-in
[] What are you?
[] Where did you come from?
[] Why are you here?