Where I used to work, I had to use my own laptop. I spent about 60 percent of my time browsing through dafont.com and downloading fonts onto Microsoft Word. This was only sort of my job, as I worked for a prominent blog (that I won’t mention) as one of four graphic designers, and we sometimes needed new fonts for titles or body paragraphs in posts. I also had to make ads for videos we would release. I always needed fonts. This was all a waste of time because what I was doing was picking fonts I might need later, only to browse again through dafont.com whenever I needed a font.
I would also dabble in coding––I was consistently working on a game where all the little trinkets on my coworkers’ desks interacted. Lucille, who sat beside me, had a wooden crab that completely came apart—she got it in Cuba and said the wooden sculptures were like that so people could pack them easier––and if I clicked it, it would crab walk over to this 8-bit Darth Vader bear (inspired by the one Marc had on his desk a couple cubes down) and cut its head off. I didn’t really know what else crabs could do. That was pretty much what my day-to-day looked like, sometimes busier, sometimes slow, but ultimately? I worked a regular job, had a regular life, and never really did much worth noting.
I know you probably think that I was sort of a loser, and you would be correct. I was sort of just in a rut, you know? I had goals and aspirations, but they all fell to the wayside at some point.
Now I’ll explain what actually happened because that’s the most interesting part of the story and what the Historical Society wants me to write about. I felt like it was important to explain a little bit about myself before the actual story—for some context—so hopefully any future readers aren’t too bored by this point. Keep reading as this next part will probably have an answer to one of your assignment questions.
Everyone kind of knows the circumstances around the events of the day. First the sirens, then some sort of speaking, and everyone thinking it was just happening in only their heads but really everyone could hear the same thing. That was a weird feeling. I remember really hoping no one could hear my thoughts and that this was just some sort of weird dream. I sometimes passed out in the quiet room at work, and though I couldn’t remember going to the quiet room, I assumed I was asleep.
Everyone stopped on a dime the moment we started hearing words in a language that felt otherworldly. I could feel when words ended and began but I couldn’t really connect them to anything, like how if you know French you can pick up Italian or Spanish words here and there.
I remember a high-pitched whine, like mic interference, and then suddenly words started sounding like English, which I thought was interesting. I wondered if people who spoke other languages heard different languages. Then I started registering what the disembodied voice was saying.
So, they played the first message, which was something like, “We have reason to believe your planet will be responsible for a universal catastrophe, and as a result, we have decided to launch a full investigation. Since you were unable to make the investigation, we have brought the trial to you”, and I remember being in disbelief, thinking that maybe it was just our office managers playing a trick on the workers, as they have been known to do because they’re ‘hip’, but then the 9/11 Monument was arbitrarily destroyed.
The aliens continued their speech, and proclaimed, “We have decided that the person who will represent you will be Katie Vega”. I suppose these aliens had never encountered a planet with people who had the same names, because they were sincerely taken aback when I yelled, “Which Katie Vega? There’s more than one!” after they announced the name of the Representative Elect. There was a small amount of sputtering on the alien side of the broadcast, and the voice changed from a neutral, slightly off-putting voice to a shriller, almost comical one, that reminded me of Rick Moranis and Kermit the Frog mixed together. That only made it feel more like a dream because why would anyone but me mix those two voices together?
“Wh—Which Katie Vega? You mean there’s more than one? Why would there be more than one?” I got the feeling this voice was not used to interacting with those who lived on the planets they were going to destroy.
“Well, I knew at least two Katie Vega’s growing up, and I’m sure if you searched ‘Katie Vega’ on Facebook—”
“Facebook? Is that that thing where you make a profile and you can search for your friends and put links to funny videos on their walls?” The Ruler seemed genuinely interested. I found this comment strange because it seemed to know a small amount of knowledge about Earth culture, but, again, did not know that people sometimes had the same name. Astounding.
“Yes, it is. But anyway, search ‘Katie Vega’ on there and—”
“Very well. Are you a Katie Vega?” Everyone listening could tell that the Ruler and its cronies were clearly discussing in their alien language exactly what course of action to take. They were murmuring like politicians at a McDonalds, as my mother liked to say, which I think means something like politicians don’t talk shop in public places. My mother was a hippie.
“I can’t believe these are the aliens we get stuck with. What’s your technology like up there? Are you even translating this into the languages of Earth or do you legitimately speak English? Is this from a fucking novel? Is there a fish I should have in my ear?” I was particularly proud of that reference because I didn’t encounter many people who had read any Douglas Adams books, so I thought it was rather clever. I wracked my brain to find out which Sci-Fi novel from my youth I had encountered recently that would illicit this dream; none seemed quite right.
“Young lady, we will destroy another monument to prove our power!” I remember mouthing ‘young lady’ in disbelief.
“Let’s say that I am a Katie Vega. What am I supposed to be doing? And I’m speaking in strict hypotheticals here, I may or may not be a Katie Vega.”
“Well, Katie Vega is the person who will make the case regarding the Earth’s importance in the history of the galaxy. It was all in the speech, did you not listen at all?”
Before I could respond, the Ruler said, “Aha! You are Katie Vega. Our computers just told us so.” It sounded so childish it almost made me laugh. It seemed as though the computers had not really told them what my name was, and they were just pretending; I mean, I seemed to be the only one speaking, so it didn’t matter what my name was.
“Okay, so I am Katie Vega. Now I’m supposed to give some sort of speech about why the Earth should be saved?” I sat down in my chair and thought that, since this was a dream, I could definitely smoke a bowl at my desk and not get in trouble, and even if I got in trouble it wouldn’t matter because it was a dream. So, I pulled my pipe and grinder out of my little hidden purse compartment and proceeded to smoke. I thought it would help me to make a lot of good statements about the Earth. The aliens gave an exasperated sigh and said that yes, I as the one who was supposed to explain the Earth’s value.
“What value? I mean, we haven’t explored enough planets for our culture to have really pushed itself into the consciousness of others. To Earthlings Earth is important, but to other planets, Earth is probably just a blue marble, right?” I inhaled and felt myself sink a little into the chair. I usually picked up my weed from a coworker, but he hadn’t been able to grab for weeks so I had grabbed from a drug dealer friend of a friend. She was nice, but her weed was only mediocre. I think she got it about a week old from a dispensary.
“Well, what about humans? Aren’t you going to say how amazing humans are even with all their flaws and they deserve to live?” I could tell that it truly was a haughty old alien who was not used to people talking back to it; you know, being insubordinate.
“Well, can I ask you a question first? Why is Earth even on the list of planets to destroy if you think we have too much culture… et cetera?” I couldn’t figure out how to end that sentence, so I ended it with ‘et cetera’—you know, what anyone does when they want to seem intelligent. You’ll probably use this in your essay.
“It’s just part of our job, ma’am. We don’t make the rules; we just follow the ones set out by the Federation.” I heard what sounded like papers shuffling, which was weird, because I didn’t think aliens would need papers. I noticed that this voice was a little deeper and more authoritative than the first voice, the voice of the Ruler, and that made me question the integrity of this destruction plan. I finished my second bowl and dumped the ashes from my pipe onto the floor of my cubicle, putting my pipe and grinder in a Ziplock bag I found in my purse, and then it hit me.
“Wait, you work for The Federation? Are you saying Roddenberry was right? Do you work for fucking Star Fleet?” There were many moments when I was sure this could be nothing but a dream, and this was one of them. Did I mention I thought this whole thing was a dream? I cannot stress this enough. I mean, wouldn’t you?
“Dear human. We are simply doing our jobs and would request that you, insert na– Katie Vega? Is her name Katie Vega, guys? Okay—Katie Vega, proceed to make your case for why your planet should not be destroyed.” This was a different voice, and this alien was obviously reading from some sort of Mad Lib-type template thing, which has a name, but I can’t quite recall what it is.
It was at this point I decided to put some effort into my dream and say what I was thinking. “Why shouldn’t Earth be destroyed? Who says it shouldn’t—who says it shouldn’t be destroyed? Maybe humans deserve to be eradicated from the universe,” I walked out of my cubicle and went around to Lucille’s, picking up her wooden crab. “Humans are like that guy you dated in college—or girl, or whomever, I shouldn’t assume anyone’s preference—who was so perfect when you were just getting to know him or her or them. They were good in bed, nice to look at, into all the cool music that you didn’t even know existed, they were into sports just enough to be fit but not a pompous jock. But then, about three weeks after you go on your first date, they start showing their true colours, and you remember what you heard from the other girls in your college about them. At first, it’s just harmless flirting, and you do it, too, hoping they’ll get jealous, but they don’t. They just go and fuck another girl who falls in love with them too quickly, just like you. They’re still all those remarkable things, because they were always honest, but so many bad things, too, because they were just as insecure as you were, just, a—selfish prick, but better looking.” I walked around a little more, and I felt that the aliens were hanging on my every word. I didn’t think I was really speaking well, and my thought process was convoluted, but I knew what I wanted to say, and I was floored at having an audience.
“Humans don’t change. We post pictures and videos online and force everyone to be part of our lives, but we only show them the best parts when life is just shit. When people don’t answer our texts, we get upset, we take away their privacy… For every video someone shares on Facebook from the Make-A-Wish foundation, there are hundreds of thousands of other instances we don’t see on video of warlords forcing cocaine into the wounds of young children to get them addicted enough that they’ll do anything to get their fix. In 1915 we have the Armenian genocide, from 1939 to 1946 we have the Holocaust, and before that the Turks enslaved the Greeks for 300 years—and not to mention race relations in America for the last, what, 500 years? Countless other things I can’t even remember hearing about which are just vile. We don’t even have secure enough science to know how exactly how cruel our ancestors were. Also, a lot of people don’t get along here. Did you know that a lot of people care about who other people have sex with?” I thought I heard one of the alien’s gasp, but I might have been imagining that. “That’s speaking about humans, only: what about the Earth itself? Is it fighting us by quaking and exploding? By getting warmer and warmer?
“We’re resilient, I’ll say that. This planet keeps trying to kill us, but we just keep trying to kill it back, I suppose. I don’t think humans can really change. I think that maybe there are some good people, and maybe everyone has the capacity for good, but for every good action there is an equal and negative reaction, and that will be the pattern until the end of time. Perhaps we’re all better off just not existing.” I paused, then, and leaned on someone’s cubicle I had walked to that was far from mine. I shrugged and said, “Maybe someone else should make the case. I think I’m too much of a cynic to give everyone a chance. I mean, don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot of good shit on Earth. Like Stanley Kubrick films, and music by Iron & Wine, art by Raoul Duffy, cooking videos, inventions like banana holders (purely for the comedic value)—and even stuff like kayaks and the Muskoka lakes and the Salt Flats and the Taal Volcano. But, I mean, if you exist, then there must be millions of other planets and creatures whose cultures are just as interesting or beautiful or even scary. What can I say? If the Federation deems our planet destructive or destructible, who am I to say that it isn’t? I mean, they’re supposed to be all-knowing and stuff, right? It’s complicated, but if it were up to me, I’d say follow orders because I don’t see us getting much better, quite honestly.”
I walked from the desk I was at back to mine and pulled a granola bar out of the drawer. It was one of those ones that are half dipped in yogurt, you know? It was strawberry, which is my favourite. As I stood at my desk eating it, everyone was staring at me. Mostly in disbelief, some in solemn admiration but still in disbelief. It was a strange feeling to be so important and yet to be eating a granola bar. Do you know what I mean? The fate of the world was in my hands, but instead of looking important or even worth admiring, I was eating a granola bar. I hope those reading this can understand how surreal a feeling this was; and for something to feel surreal in what you think is a dream is incredible.
It felt like ages before anything else happened, but I knew it couldn’t have been too long because I was almost done my granola bar and I usually powered through them. Then, the aliens responded.
“We have come to a decision regarding the destruction of your planet.”
I could feel a sharp inhalation from everyone in my office, and an involuntary shrug from my own body. I looked around and found the spinning top that I kept on my desk. It was an homage to the film Inception, and I used to spin it around hoping that my day job was just a dream and I could fly out one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, far from my cubicle, at any time. Just for fun, I decided to spin my spinning top, and if you’ve seen the film Inception, then you know what it means when the top falters and then stops spinning.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” was all I said before they gave their reply.
“We have decided—” the first speaker was cut off by the voice I recognized as the Ruler.
“Listen, Katie. You’re clearly going through some sort of phase, and we think you need some time to, you know, be by yourself and what have you. So, um, we’ll be back in a few hundred years to reassess Earth’s position in the history of the Galaxy. Basically, this is too depressing for us, and we just eradicated a planet where the people were ingesting nuclear waste which was killing them from the inside out. They didn’t even understand the irony. So, yeah, just think over your position in life, and we’ll come back to you. In a few hundred years.” They seemed to be on their way when the Ruler held back to say one last thing.
“You know, Katie, you present some interesting points, though. Perhaps the Federation is fallible, and Earth shouldn’t be destroyed. But, on the other hand, humans are creatures of habit, from what we’ve observed. They destroy and kill and burn to progress; but, as you said, there’s so much beauty on this Earth that it may be a pity to destroy it. We’ve recommended that once humans have reached maturity the Federation should re-evaluate your planet. You are in a certain place in your human development—rebellious, cynical, ambivalent, selfish. At some point, though, we assume that humans will, to put it simply, grow up. Goodbye, Katie Vega, and Earth.”
And on that note, they left. They haven’t returned since, and I’m not sure they will in my lifetime. The aftermath of their arrival is well known. There is enough written about it on Facebook and Twitter and all those other websites. Directly after they left, though, I remember everyone started cheering in my office. Everyone hugged each other, and a few people hugged me, but it felt like the type of hug that was so involuntary that I could have been anyone. I shrugged it off internally because it seemed as though I really didn’t do anything. I said a lot of horrible things about humans, so I guess I should have expected everyone to be wary of me. I also smoked a couple bowls in front of coworkers, most of whom did not know that I smoked weed, and my overall nonchalance about the end of the world was probably slightly frightening to the squares I worked with.
I’m not positive how to end this account; the Historical Society told me I could do what I wanted. Well, there’s not much to say, and my life after That Day isn’t really that important. I basically sold my home in the city and most of my stuff in favor of purchasing a home in the country. I make enough money to get by. People even send me money and letters, sometimes, and thank me for what I said—it was inspiring for some people, I guess. They say I helped them realise that life is too short not to do what you love. I get a lot of death threats and whatnot, but that’s neither here nor there because anyone even partially famous gets death threats. I’m pretty much off the grid now, which I realized I was always fine with; I never really had anyone or anything keeping me on the grid.
I guess the moral of this story is that everyone has problems; sometimes your problems work in your benefit, and other times, they don’t. Something cheesy I could say here is ‘once you discover your truth, you need to stick to it’. But really, we all make our own morals and decisions, and mine seemed to work out for me. Hopefully yours work out for you. I hope you do well on your assignment, and that the planet doesn’t get destroyed in your life time, or maybe they will come, and you’ll have your moment. Does it matter? Shouldn’t you live your life to the fullest anyway? As cheesy as that may seem, I guess that’s the better moral: live your life as if the aliens are coming to destroy the planet tomorrow. You’ll have fewer regrets that way.
Oh, and by the way, my name isn’t Katie Vega. It’s Haley Santos. I guess it never really mattered, though, anyway—the message, not the messenger and all that.
Copyright © 2019 Daniela Loria-Caschera.
23 Different Jobs 