[ WP ] You are abducted by aliens and brought into outer space . To your surprise , they do n't ask you to take you to your leader . They just want the recipe for chocolate chip cookies .

`` Oh man, I must be really baked.'' 
 
 I figured I might nod off on the couch at some point; it was standard fare for the evening's activities. Unfortunately, after wiping what I thought was sleep from my eyes, I was met with a more jarring reality. I was laid prone on a cold, metallic-looking surface. Calling it a table would n't be fair; it was contoured to my body, and really quite comfortable, but calling it a bed would n't be fair either. Beds are warm, as everyone knows, and whatever I was laying on was icy to the touch. Above me, a lamp reaching toward me from the ceiling bathed me in pale, blue light. 
 
 As I was suddenly overcome with the itch to explore my new surroundings, the thing I was laying on -- I still do n't know what to call it -- began to transform, and set me upright on the floor. With unsure legs, and a still wobbling consciousness, I stepped off of the thing, and it quickly retreated into the opening in the floor from which it sprung, and which closed with equal speed. Wiping my eyes once more, I ventured out of the circle of blue light, to more closely examine my surroundings. 
 
 The room was a large circle -- a cylinder, for all the pedants out there -- with a diameter of probably 25 feet. The walls were made of the same material as whatever I had just been laying on, and seemed to breathe with a dull, fluorescent glow. Above and below me, white circles of tile formed both the floor and ceiling. Thinking back now, it seems unfair to call the tiles `` tiles'', and not call the metallic surfaces `` metal'', but I'm trying to describe it in terms you'll understand. After all, I was there; I do n't need to have it described to me. Anyway... 
 
 I placed my hand against one of the sections of wall, and a large arrow appeared, attacking my eyes with violent, green light. Stepping back, I noticed all the walls had come alive with similar anger, arrows all pointing to one particular section of wall. Walking toward it caused it to change; it became translucent, and I could see beyond it, to the beings of some variety walking around on the other side. Expecting it to open, I continued toward it, but stopped when it made no move. Perhaps the sensor was broken; if automatic doors at the supermarket had taught me anything, it was that automatic door sensors were n't to be trusted. 
 
 `` You can walk right through it. It will feel like water. Do not be afraid.'' 
 
 An unfamiliar voice rang in the room. Despite it's calm demeanor, I could n't help but be overcome by an ominous notion; there was serious danger here. I was in real trouble. 
 
 `` No, I think I'll just stay here,'' I replied, hesitantly. `` Not knowing where I am, and knowing what I know about wilderness survival ( very little, but that information I was keeping to myself ), I know that when one is lost, one should stay put.'' 
 
 `` Very well'' came the response, `` then we shall come to you.'' 
 
 Without warning, and without any idea how it happened, I awoke once more on the metal thing in the middle of the room. Unfortunately, this second experience did not have the warm demeanor of the first. The soft, blue glow had been replaced by a hard, white one. Two heads hovered over my own, and for a brief moment I was reminded of so many unnerving visits to the dentist. Sidling around, one of the beings dimmed the light above me and, for the first time, I could see who had brought me to wherever the hell I was. 
 
 `` You are n't very trusting.'' 
 
 `` Yeah, well, you've brought me to... somewhere... without my permission. Kidnapping is not the best way to earn one's trust.'' 
 
 `` But we have n't harmed you.'' 
 
 `` Nope, just stolen me away.'' 
 
 `` But we allowed you to sleep peacefully.'' 
 
 `` Right, but... look, you're missing the point. Being nice -- and non-violent, thankfully -- is not the measure by which you earn a person's trust. Start with the not'kidnapping me first' part, and work forward from there. Can I get out of this... chair? bed? couch?... whatever you call this thing?'' 
 
 The chair-bed-couch set me back on the floor, facing my two kidnappers. They were quite strange looking, yet somehow familiar. Human-looking, but clearly not human. Like someone had studied humanity, but had missed out on the years between 10 and 80. They were small of stature, but appeared strong and virile. However, they had far too much skin, so that you could have reached out and grabbed it by the handful, and they shuffled their feet when they walked, as if they no longer had the strength to lift them off the floor. They moved closer to me, almost trapping me between them, and stared at me with eyes so sunken, you'd have thought there were n't there at all. Maybe they were n't, I honestly could n't be sure. 
 
 `` We heard you say you bake.'' 
 
 `` Uhh... what'' 
 
 `` Bake, you said you bake. We have studied much of your kind, and are supremely intrigued by this'baking'.'' 
 
 `` Yeah, baking's neat, I guess. But I do n't bake, sorry. I'm not sure where you got that idea, but-'' 
 
 `` You said it!'' There was anger in their tone now. `` You said it as soon as you awoke here!'' 
 
 `` I... uhh... what? I'm certain I said nothing of the sort. I really am sorry, but I'm afraid you've got the wrong person.'' 
 
 Briskly, yet still with the swish of shuffling feet, one of them moved to a wall panel, which had shed its large, green arrow, in favor of an array of buttons. He pressed one with a strong, but crooked finger, and a recording played from somewhere in the room. Over and over, it rang out; a skipping record whose needle could not be adjusted. 
 
 `` Oh man, I must be really baked. Oh man, I must be really baked....'' 
 
 `` There, see! You said you baked!'' The anger had been tempered by satisfaction, but I could still hear the former in his words. 
 
 `` Okay, now I see. Umm... how to explain? I do not bake. I *was* baked.'' 
 
 `` You *were* baked? So you must know the cookies!'' Anger had completely left, replaced by pure jubilation. `` Please, please tell us the secret of the cookies!'' 
 
 `` I... wait, what? I do n't think you're understanding.'Baked' is a term used to describe how someone feels after using certain psychotropic chemicals; in this case, marijuana and THC. I do not know these cookies you speak of. Although, I could definitely go for a cookie right about now. You got any?'' 
 
 `` No. This is why we have called on you. You must supply the cookies.'' 
 
 `` Yeah... I do n't have any cookies. Sorry.'' 
 
 `` Unacceptable.'' We were back at anger, again. `` We demand the cookies. Chocolate Chip cookies.'' 
 
 `` Ummm... the supermarket probably has cookies. You guys know where there's a supermarket around here?'' I did n't really know what else to say, or do. Hell, I'm no baker. I could probably take a stab in the dark -- how hard could chocolate chip cookies really be to make -- but who knows what horrors failure would rain upon me. 
 
 `` Unacceptable. We require baked chocolate chip cookies.'' 
 
 `` Right. Well, here's the thing. We're going to have to go to the supermarket anyway. And cookies take a long time to make. We can just buy cookies, then we wo n't have to wait for them to bake.'' 
 
 `` Fine! Have it your way! We'll buy the cookies!'' 
 
 Happy with myself, I allowed a tepid smile to access my face, and turn the corners of my mouth toward the white tile ceiling. My captors -- friends is probably the better word by now -- inched closer to me, and reached with their toes to stand eye to eye with me. 
 
 `` Now then, tell us about this'marijuana' you spoke of earlier. If our cookies will not be baked, then perhaps we should like to be.''
