She finds herself in a plush leather chair, staring into the eyes of a grinning man in a suit. He gestures to the left, and she looks to the edge of the stage.
Her stomach drops, and she forces yourself to smile, hoping the cameras didn't catch her confusion. Canned laughter wafts through the studio, cheesy and overwhelming. She takes a deep breath.
An audience of things, blobby and fat, not in chairs but the weird handicapped scooters you'd seen all over zoos and grocery stores; they gnash their teeth as they stare at her.
"So, what's your name, 738-L-54?" the host begins. She notes there's no kind of introduction. The audience claps their hands together, stick-thin and with five tiny nubs for fingers.
They make an eerie squish sound as they meet and nothing more.
She shifts in her seat and takes a breath, choosing to speak honestly. "I'm--"
The host leans forward in his chair, his face red with laughter. "It speaks!" he bellows, and the creatures seem to laugh with him, great bellowing roars.
Yellow flecks of bile and spit fly out of their mouths and coat the stage.
Taking a moment to think, the man leans towards her and positions his mouth near her ear.
A burst of pain and she realizes she's been slapped. The beasts are crowding at the end of the stage now, leaving behind their scooters and teetering wildly on stick-thin legs.
They bite and nip at the end, cheering wildly through grunts and squeals.
"Now, now," the host scolds the audience, a smirk playing on his face, "you'll have to wait til' the raffle."
The beasts calm down and return to their seats, skin shimmering with saliva. She sees blood on their teeth and shivers. The raffle?
"Now, a question for real this time," he mutters, "does your baby like presidents?"
Words flash in her brain. She's not sure how, but she can see them: "SAY YES" they command.
"That's right," he laughs, "even humans like Evenmeyer. Vote Evenmeyer."
The audience screams and she sinks further into her seat, absent-mindedly answering the questions as the works tell her to.
"Now," the host interrupts, "it's time for the raffle."
Sticking a finger into his mouth, and going in up to his elbow, he eventually pulls out a single, perfect sphere, with an alien marking she's not familiar with.
], come to the front," he says, and a monster steps up, snarling, bare nostrils flaring.
It holds out its arms.
The host smiles, and with a flourish, he clutches her arm and throws her into the audience, beasts descending on her.