John Smith Emporium

 

"Welcome to the John Smith Emporium— Where You Can Be Whoever You Want to Be!"

A cheerful voice over the intercom rang out through the shop as I stepped inside. Curiosity and the promise of shelter from the rain had drawn me in here, though I wasn't planning to do any shopping. Looking around, it was hard to tell what it was this shop sold. There were scenic displays of far off places, rows of hats and clothes in various styles and time periods, and a long wall of filing cabinets. Walking over to the cabinets, I was startled to find that each drawer was simply labeled John Smith. What kind of organizing system was that?

"Hello sir! How may I help you today?" A cheerful voice called from behind me, and I twisted around to meet the smiling face of a dark haired employee. She motioned to the cabinets, as though I'd found something amazing. "Are you interested in our exchange program?"

"Your what?" I asked.

"Our exchange program. You simply pick the John Smith you would like to be, and well take can of the entire process. You have a thirty day guarantee that you'll love your new life, or your old one is returned for free!"

Alright, I'd bite. Just to see what kind of scam they were running here. Turning back to the filing cabinets, I opened one at random. Inside were — surprise surprise — folders. All labeled John Smith. I picked one, opened it, and flipped through the information about this guy's life.

John Smith was the captain on a starship, traveling the galaxy in search of rare treasures he could sell to the highest bidder with the help of his ragtag group of misfits.

"This one." I said, because it seemed like the setting of a sci-fi novel, and something they couldn't just whip out an apartment and some actors to play pretend on.

"Wonderful choice!" The employee said, taking the folder and leading me up to the register to pay. There were a few forms to sign as well, but it was a bunch of made up legalese that seemed better suited for a fairytale.

   After everything was signed and paid for, a sudden wave of dizziness hit me. The last thing I remembered was the girl's wide grin.

"Come on, John, this is no time for a nap!" A voice rang out over the sounds of blaster fire. I opened groggy eyes, my head pounding like a Tarlxe had sat on it. My second-in-command, Chelsea Withers, was crouched beside me, hair slick with sweat and the purplish goop this planet oozed with.

"Chelsea, what happened?" I asked, hand fumbling to draw my blaster as she leaned out from behind our sheltered alcove to fire back at whoever we'd ticked off this time.

"You want an explanation, or a path back to the Infamous?" She snapped, and I felt a smile curl up my face.

"Aren't you talented enough to do both?"

"Flattery will get you killed one day, John."

"Ah, but never when it's to you."

As she scoffed and fired again, I pushed the strange feeling of displacement aside. Whatever had knocked me out, I was slowly feeling like myself again, and wasn't about to keep lying around. For I was John Smith, greatest treasure hunter in the galaxy.