A Weird Day In Vesterbro

Thorstein Christiansen is a lonely Danish astrophysicist looking for aliens in far beyond galaxies. However, the aliens are where he least expects them.

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1. The Formula and the Fruit Seller

Denmark was filled with its share of Astrologists and Astrophysist in history.  Starting with Tycho Brahe and Johan Kepler in the 16th century and going to now to the little known Thorstein Christiansen.  Maybe it was something to do with its location sitting on top of Europe, or the number of merchants coming in to Copenhagen needing to have a accurate depiction of the sky.   Or maybe it was the King who pushed the Danish people after years of warring with its neighbors to education from the ground below to the sky above.  The Danes liked the Greeks before them liked to look at the skies.  Both wondered about the stars, the planets and whether there was something intelligent out there.  

 

It was a quiet warm September evening on Istedgade.   Thorstein a balding slightly overweight bespeckled man walked out of Copenhagen's central railway.  He walked with a slight list from an injury sustained from a football injury in high school.  Thorstein was heading from his office Norrebro to his home in the Bohemium part of Copenhagen, Vesterbro.  The sidewalk was slightly awash with an afternoon rain but his rain jacket and rain boots protected him of any dampness.  

 

The rain was the least of his worries though.  He just got a major paper that he had been working on for several years rejected from one of the top journals for not showing some key equations in the discovery of a planet similar to Earth.  Thorstein left these equations out for a reason.  He did not want this planet to be discovered just yet.  Regardless he did not get the paper published and was in danger of losing his large grant from the Niels Bohr Institute.  '''

 

Even from looking from him you could tell Thorstein was eccentric.  His crazy hair and large glasses gave it away.  People especially women did not like being around him as he only talked about himself which mainly consisted of his research.  He was a typical example of a narcissist and sociopath which was all too common among researchers in the past and for physicists this was a trademark.  Many of these traits were weeded out for better or for worse with new granting systems and interviews.  Thorstein did not care what anybody thought either.  His grant gave him free ability to do whatever research in astrophysics as he wanted.  His research on exoplanets, waves and aliens was both ground breaking and completely out of line with anything else that was before it.  The general public would say it is crazy.  Thorstein being an eccentric narcissist scientist did not give a damn of what people thought and he carried out his own endeavors.

 

As his personality disorder was far from attractive his way of compensating was to pay for people to be with him.  Either these were graduate students who left right after work or prostitutes who Thorstein visited on occasion after work.  Today was a perfect day to visit a prostitute on Istegade.  Many he knew from a first hand basis.  It was a simple transaction really.  You walk up the street, take out the money, they have a room waiting or a van with heavily tinted windows.  You do you business and clean up then go about your day.  Thorstein sociopathic behavior felt it was much like going to the supermarket except the transaction was a bit different.

 

Walking down the block he passed a couple of hairdressers.  120 krowns for a cut.  He passed a couple of nice bars.  Neither did not appeal to him.  He passed the sex shops with elaborate marketing and phallic objects and the methadone clinic where ex-junkies were hanging out.  Thorstein walked in search of one of his regular girls.  She was no where to be found though.  This was her usual block that she worked.  Thorstein walked back on the other side this time looking for Angel.  She was not there.  However, he saw a new girl that looked alien in this place.   A stunning readhead with thigh high boots, a tight black jacket, red lipsticks and skin tight faded jeans.  Thorstein was wary of meeting someone new.   Firstly, she might not be a prostistute which could lead to an awkward situation and possibly an asskicking.  Secondly, she could reject him, which does not happen so often in the sex trade but this would leave Thorstein emotionally crushed.  And lastly, she could not personally know all the twisted things that Angel knew.  Thorstein decided to do what scientists do best, experiment.

 

He walked up to her.  The redhead  looked at him from head to toe.  She seemed to be wearing a cheap perfume from a grocery store.  Her hair was voluminous, red and curly that reminded Thorstein like a girl from a L'Oreal hair commercial.  The redhead's skin was pearly white that seemed like it could burn if exposed to any bit of sunlight.  She waved him closer.  He pulled out a wad of cash.  She grabbed it without counting it.  Thorstein's fears turned into excitement.  She waved him forward to a van parked 100 meters in a dark alley near behind a fruit stand.


The redhead opened the Ford minivan door and pushed Thorstein inside.  The van door closed not with a 'clink' as American cars do but rather a compressed air 'whoosh'.  From the outside the Ford van with blacked out windows looked normal from the outside but inside had a open space with chrome everywhere.  There were metal cannisters with cryptic writing that looked neither Russian or Sanscrit.  Just obscure symbols that had no discernible pattern.  


Thorstein did not speak.  He was more amazed than anything.  He thought, 'I found aliens in prostitutes in Vesterbro'


This was indeed a space ship.  Vials of hair, nails and sperm in glass jars were digested with a vicious green substance.  These were fed into a chrome boxed machine that deciphered the samples.  In less than second a hologram of DNA double helix appeared in midair showing the phenotype of each sample.   A red scanner scanned over the DNA.  Where the front of the van would be parts were being built with another chrome box.  Starting with the fingers they were being made from single cells on a solid metal table.  The process was fast and within a matter of microseconds the dermal layer of the bottom of the part of the body was  formed.  This machine was not making 3D bodies from plastic but was a fully functional biological 3D printer.  

 

Thorstein just sat their staring at the instruments.  He could not moved.  When she grabbed him he forgot that he was not dreaming.  Although her muscles looked thin she had incredible strength.  She held his neck down with one hand choking him and with her other hand she grabbed his flaccid member.  

 

'Give it to me.'  She was not talking about sex though.  She wanted something else.  Her voice was high pitched and sounded like a song as if she listened to ABBA from the radio to learn English.  Most prostitutes in Vesterbro talked English rather than Danish as many were from former Eastern bloc countries and the potato in the mouth language was difficult regardless of the irony.

 

 'Give what?'  Thorstein was perplexed.  He had nothing that they wanted except maybe his sperm, hair or other parts of his body.  


'The equation.' This was both the sexiest and weirdest time Thorstein heard hat word in all his years of University.  She continued.  He smiled to himself forgetting where he was before she slapped him with an open palm slap nearly knocking Thorstein out.  The smile disappeared from his face  'For the exoplanet.'  He came to his senses.  He had the equations on how to find the planet.  It was not an easy thing to tell someone.  Thorstein contemplated this in a daze thought for a second.  'I wonder what the paper reviewers would say.'


'Give it to me.'  This ailen redhead was as furious as furious and crazy as aliens are on earth.  She took out a something that looked like a corkscrew but it spun fast.  She pointed it at his pants and the whirring machine spun faster.

 

'I need a pen and paper!'  He exclaimed.   

 

The tall redhead looked a little confused at first.  Pressed a button.  The 3D machine that had now completed the body started printing a pen and paper on top of the fully formed naked man.  

 

Thorstein started writing the formula down.  He had an eidetic memory from since  he was child when he looked directly at a solar eclipse.  This event prompted him to become an astrophysicist.  This extra memory also has been his downfall especially when it comes to social interactions with people.  That is why he likely uses prostitutes.


The naked man sat up on the metal table confused and with deadpan eyes.  He seemed to be of Indian descent.  A helmet the size of his head dropped over him.  He started shaking while large amounts of information of the weird shaped letters scrolled down a page from another hologram.  The redheaded alien prostitute read through all of this and pushed a button.  The button reacted and the helmet started to glow blue.  The man's shaking stopped.  


Thorstein stopped writing the last of the formula to find the exoplanet.   He looked up to the man.  Thorstein knew him.  He passed him several times in Vesterbro while he worked at a fruit stand.  This was a reincarnation of him though. This was funny because Hindus believed in that sort of thing.  However, this was a 3D reincarnation from an alien space ship was maybe not how Hindus might imagine it.  Thorstein realized that all the glass jars were from parts of the Indian fruit seller's former self.  

 

The tall redhead alien looked at him as if reading his mind.  

 

'Don't worry. We don't dissolve you.  We need your mind for much more.'

 

She picked him up looked him deeply into the eyes.  There was only a black hardness for what appeared but with a touch of fear.  When Thorstein looked into her eyes it was like an old dog that lost its home and needs to fight everything in order to find it.  She dropped him back down onto the hard metal floor.  The naked Indian fruit seller sat with a blank stare on a metal table. 

 

'Get dressed.' She said to the Indian and tossed him some clothes.  

She turned back to him. 'We'll be contacting you shortly.' 

 

After the Indian was dressed the doors of the minivan slid open.  Thorstein and the Indian stepped out in front of some American tourists.  The American's shock of coming to Vesterbro and seeing junkies, prostitutes and sex shops was nothing close to what Thorstein had experienced. 

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