Question

A short story on the topic 'Toto- The alien'​

Answer 1

toto the alien is a great person.ambitious

Answer 2

Somewhere along a long, flat expanse of nothingness between Woodstock and Albany, upstate New York, sits a forbidding Victorian-looking building with concrete and barbed wire tentacles snaking out across the empty fields. It’s called the Coxsackie Correctional Facility. Although it was mid-May, sheets of icy rain bombarded me as I wandered around the perimeter, not knowing what to do. Back when I had visited Broadmoor, letters of confirmation had arrived weeks earlier, lists of visiting hours and detailed regulations. Here there was nothing. No signs, no guards. On the phone a distant, crackly voice had told me to “yeahjustcome-whenever.” This place was truly the Wild West, visitor procedure–wise. It was confusing, unordered, and unnerving.

There was only one person on the landscape: a young woman shivering in a glass shelter, so I went and stood near her.

“It’s cold,” I said.

“It’s always cold here,” she said.

Eventually, we heard a clang. A gate automatically opened, and we walked through an outdoor metal corridor underneath a tapestry of barbed wire and into a dark lobby filled with prison guards.

“Hello,” I said cheerfully.

“Hey, well, look who it is!” hollered one. “Harry Potter.” The guards surrounded me.

“Hello, mister jolly old mister marvelous,” someone said.

“Oh, ribbing!” I said.

“Jolly good jolly good,” they said. “Who are you here to see?”

“Emmanuel Constant,” I said.

At this, they stopped laughing.

“He’s a mass murderer,” said a guard, looking quite impressed.

“He once had dinner with Bill Clinton,” said another. “Have you met him before?”

1997. Emmanuel “Toto” Constant stood on the sidewalk of a long, flat residential street in Queens, New York, looking up and down, trying to spot me. Far away in the distance, through the heat haze and the traffic fumes, you could just make out the Manhattan skyline, a glint of the Chrysler Building, the Twin Towers, but there were no magnificent skyscrapers around here, no downtown bars full of sophisticates, just boxy one-story DVD rental places and fast-food restaurants. Unlike his neighbors, who were dressed in T-shirts and shorts and baseball caps on this hot day, Toto Constant was wearing an immaculate pale suit with a silk handkerchief in his top pocket. He was manicured and dapper (very similarly dapper, in retrospect, to how I would first see Tony, years later, in Broadmoor).