Ghetto...

"Sure...Alaska, Flordia, Manhattan...say, did the MIT boys genetically engineer you as a prank? They've done it to a few people before."

"I...I don't know! I don't have any memories!"

"Sorry! Look, that ferry over there goes to the mainland. Talk with the customs people and they'll get you some medical help, restore you back or whatever what was wrong with you. I gotta go. Someone spilled twelve-gross of Zinfadel all over accounting."

Stacy stood behind the main entranceway to the ferry building. She wasn't sure if she wanted to go through with this. Submitting to who-knows- what kind of medical procedures for vague, uncertain reasons? Didn't sound very American at all. What kind of USA regulates where differing looking humanoids live?

1. Get on the ferry.
2. Don't get on the ferry.

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