In a parallel universe, nestled somewhere in the swirling chaos of Dimension Z-99, an alien metropolis buzzed with life. Floating cars zipped through the air between glowing neon billboards advertising everything from intergalactic snacks to sentient vacuums. But down on the ground, amid the foot traffic and chaos, something far stranger was happening: the Human Directionals were hard at work.

Blorbo, a foot-and-a-half taller than most of the other creatures on the street, stood proudly at his assigned corner, one of the city's many armless street sign holders. His neon-green, three-toed feet gripped a massive sign that read “Free Galactic Pizza – This Way” with all the precision of a toddler using chopsticks. The sign wobbled in the air, flapping as he desperately tried to hold it steady.

"Come on, man!" Blorbo yelled at a passing alien blob who was looking hopelessly confused. "Just feel the vibe, you know? Left is right, right is left! It’s more of a suggestion than a direction, anyway."

The alien, a driver in a levitating vehicle with four eyes stacked vertically, screeched to a halt right in front of Blorbo. "What do you mean ‘left is right’?!" the blob screamed. “Where’s the pizza? You’re pointing at a brick wall!”

Blorbo shrugged—or at least made the motion he thought was shrugging, given his lack of arms. “I mean, it’s somewhere in the general direction of ‘not here.’ You just gotta trust me! Do I look like I have arms to point with, pal?”

The driver screamed in frustration and floored it, zooming off in the opposite direction, narrowly avoiding another hover-car that spiraled out of control.

Meanwhile, the streets of Z-99 were packed today. There was a city-wide celebration going on—a parade for the Mayor, who had just won re-election thanks to a controversial platform of reducing street signs in favor of “more organic” directional solutions. Hence, the no-armed street sign holders. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

Blorbo squinted as he saw the parade rounding the corner. The first float, a giant jellyfish-shaped balloon (an homage to the Mayor’s gelatinous form), was headed straight toward an intersection. But there was no time to worry about balloons. He had work to do. The massive crowd needed directions, and by gum, they were going to get some.

He glanced across the street, where another Human Directional, Zoog, was spinning wildly on his head, gripping his sign in his mouth. It read “Parade Route – Detour” but it was upside down and shaking so erratically that it might as well have said “Free Space Clams Over Here” for all the good it was doing.

“Zoog!” Blorbo called out. “Get a grip, man! We’ve got to funnel this crowd or we’re gonna have a stampede on our hands!”

Zoog, still spinning, called back between gasps for air. “I’m doing the best I can! We weren’t born for this!”

Blorbo took a deep breath, balanced on one foot, and spun the “Pizza This Way” sign with his remaining foot like a circus performer. He gestured wildly with his knees and forehead, hoping the parade would take the hint and follow the barely legible directions.

In a press conference not too far away, the Mayor, a 12-foot-tall jellyfish dressed in a crisp suit, addressed a crowd of reporters, trying to keep his composure.

“We appreciate the Human Directionals’ efforts,” the Mayor said, his jelly-like voice quivering through his gooey form. “They’re doing their best under…uh, difficult circumstances. Traffic accidents are up 700%, but hey, nobody’s perfect, right? We’re looking into the possibility of, uh, maybe giving them arms. We’re still exploring the budget on that one.”

Back on the street, chaos continued. Blorbo managed to kick-flip his sign just in time to stop a hover-bus barreling through the parade route. He spun and dropped to the ground, planting the sign between his legs like a flag, blocking the hover-bus with sheer willpower. The bus screeched to a halt, narrowly missing a crowd of jellyfish aliens.

“We did it!” Zoog shouted triumphantly from across the street, biting down hard on his sign in a victory pose.

Blorbo grinned, panting. “Yeah...just another day’s work.”

But before he could catch his breath, an infomercial blared from a giant screen above the parade route. The image was of a slick, sleazy alien in a glittery suit, grinning as he waved to the viewers.

“Tired of not knowing where you’re going? Sick of wandering aimlessly through the streets because your Human Directional can’t point the way? Well, now you can help! For only 50 credits, you can sponsor an arm for these poor creatures!”

The camera panned to an image of Blorbo, staring wistfully at a mannequin arm in a store window, as soft, sad music played.

“One day,” Blorbo whispered to himself, his foot resting against the window, “One day...I’ll know what it feels like to point with a real hand.”

Just then, a voice in the crowd broke the moment. “Hey! Where’s the pizza!?”

Blorbo, snapping out of his daydream, flipped his sign again. “I said it’s somewhere over there!” He waved the sign furiously with his foot, sending the crowd into even more confusion.

Up above, the commercial continued, “Call now and help these armless heroes of the streets get the limbs they deserve! Change lives—save traffic!”

As the hover-bus backed away from the parade, Blorbo stood proud. Arms or not, he knew he was the best darn directional in Dimension Z-99. The job wasn’t easy, but no one ever said saving a city was.