[Where is he? What has he done to deserve this, whatever this is? And how does he get out of here? Cecil wanders the corridors in a daze, his hands trembling slightly.

He saw stars out of a window, sewn into the endless, yawning expanse of space. His gut churns, but he's trying to remain calm, to remain professional. It's not like he thought this would never happen to him. He was just hoping he'd be older, much older, old enough to be insensate and indifferent. Old enough that he wouldn't have any dates to miss.

He stares at the device in his hands. It looks a lot like his own phone, if maybe a slightly newer and sleeker model. There are messages coming in, voices and words from people he does not know. He murmurs to himself.]

Oh, Cecil. You're far from home, aren't you?

[He speaks more directly into his device.]

I don't know why you've chosen me, my new and hopefully benevolent alien overlords. But I strongly hope that whatever experiments you conduct will leave no long-term physical or psychological scarring.

I'd also really appreciate it if you could finish up with me before Friday. There's this movie I want to see, and it's kind of a date thing, too ... you know.