One Alien Life

Intermediary Observation Report #001: Week 1

2010-06-20T17:11:00.013-04:00

06.13.2010
8.30 pm

I signed off with Customer Servitron 1174 and pulled the InterStellarNet keyboard jack out of my ear (which isn't as horrible as it sounds). The tech offered to install a jack elsewhere, but I told him, "the less you have to wiggle your interstellar screwdriver or whatever the hell that thing is, the better"--and frankly, I think an argument could be made that it counts as probing, which is strictly prohibited in my contract with AARG. But okay, what's done is done, so let's just move on.

The response was obviously a form letter, but I'm sure they're up to their variously constructed ocular cavities with freelance alien subjects on the fritz. Frankly, "become a miserable heap of meat" sounds perfectly horrifying and not at all "fun and adventurous and for the Ultimate Good of all interstellar beings throughout Space and Time (which isn't linear, you know)," which is what the brochure from the recruiter promised when I signed on. But again, what's done is done. I've got the jack and the microchip whoosie, so I guess I'm in it now.

I have read and reread the instructions about fifty times. I've opened all the boxes of stuff they sent, and I have no idea how to even start. Seriously, how am I supposed to change everything about my entire life in twenty-one days?

Maybe it'll just work itself out. Maybe it was a one-time glitch. Maybe if I just go to sleep early tonight, get a good night's rest, it'll be better tomorrow.

***
6.14.2010
6.17 am

Woke up screaming again this morning. This time, it took an entire half hour to stop. That's a long time to scream.

I made an appointment with my Earth doctor for tomorrow. The receptionist sounded annoyed that I insisted on such short notice, but I think she got the picture when I started hyperventilating. So tomorrow it is. AARG tech support can suck it.

***
6.15.2010
11.47 am

More screaming, more vacuum dreams, and this morning I added "crying" to the show. It was a full two hours before I could get out of bed. I waited until the last minute before my appointment with Dr. Doctor*, then hauled myself over there.

The whole time I was waiting in her office, I noticed myself noticing things that I normally wouldn't have noticed. For example, this little old lady walked past me to get a cup of water from the cooler, and I immediately knew she was 5 feet, 1.374 inches tall. I don't know how I knew that, but I did. I was overcome with the certainty and an accompanying urge to write it down in the notebook AARG gave me for field notes. So now I guess I can add "spontaneously noticing units of measurement and being compelled to write them down" to my list of symptoms. Clearly, I wasn't going to tell Dr. Doctor about that.

When she asked why I was there, I told her I'd been having some trouble sleeping and was generally feeling crappy.

"Define 'feeling crappy,' " she said. "That's pretty vague. I don't think there are any specific tests or treatment for that."

I told her, "You know, just...crappy. Really run down, like beyond normal run down. Like I feel thirsty, and I know I have juice in the fridge, and the fridge is only about four feet away, but I think to myself, 'Eh, four feet. Too far. Can't get there. Forget it, I'll make more spit."

She blinked at me. "Okay, so you're fatigued. Any soreness? Rash? Vomiting?"

"Yes," I said. "I'm fatigued out of my mind. No rash or vomiting."

"What else?" She had me lie down on the table and felt around my neck and abdomen.

"I'm having trouble sleeping. Nightmares, specifically. About being stuck in a vacuum. And my entire body just feels...slow. Wrong."

She stopped prodding and asked if I had eaten anything or done anything or gone anywhere out of the ordinary in the last few weeks.

"Nope. Just working, you know. I'm still a secretary. Administrative assistant, I mean. Haven't done anything out of the ordinary." Except the alien technology thing. Which I didn't mention, of course.

Dr. Doctor got up, put her glasses on, and typed some notes into her laptop. Lots of notes. For a while.

"Um, hello?" I said. "Do you think it's serious?"

She looked at me over the rims of her glasses and said, "Well, yes and no. You're in your early thirties, you're locked up in an office all day working forty hours a week or more, and you drink a pot and a half of coffee a day. You're out of shape, you smoke like a fiend, and you generally don't take very good care of yourself. It's bound to catch up with you sometime."

"Right," I said. "When you say it like that, it sounds pretty lame."

"Take a yoga class or something. Eat some food, drink some water. Quit smoking, for the love of god. It's so 1950s. I'm telling you, you'll feel amazing."

"Right," I said.

"I'll get back to you with your blood test results, but I think it's a minor midlife crisis. Suck it up, sister, we all go through it. Do the right things for yourself, and you'll feel better."

She looked at me a little strangely when I asked for three copies of all the lab results, but she promised to fax them to me. So at least that means no glowing alien needles or whatever. Customer Servitron 1174 will be smarmy about it anyway, I'm sure.

*Names have been changed.

***
6.15.2010
4.45 pm

It seems to be getting worse. Vacuum dream, screaming, crying, headache, general feeling of itchiness all over, but also specifically inside my brain, which is very disconcerting. Like I want to take my brain out and soak it in an oatmeal bath.

I've got no choice but to perform the reboot. I'm not sure I'll make it but I have to try. For the Ultimate Good of the blah blah blah, etc. Because even though I'm just one infinitesimal speck when you think about how big the universe is, still, I'm the only speck I've got. It seems a shame to let it all end in an unfortunate meat pile. Besides, I'm looking forward to jamming Customer Servitron with as many forms and tickets as possible.

Service Log #001: Entire System Reboot

2010-06-13T17:19:00.076-04:00

TO: AARG-G@InterStellarNet.com.biz.gov
ATTN: Customer Servitron 1174

Dear Alien Anthropologist Research Group,

You told me to write if I experienced any side-effects from the recording and researching technology you installed last week when I began my employment with you as a freelance anthropology subject, so I’m sending you this update to report on the being a human situation for your archives or genetic encoding research or whatever. For science!

For the most part, I hadn't noticed any major side-effects from the genetic microchip or whatever it is. But I had an allergic reaction or something when I woke up this morning, which was just like every other morning, very normal Earth weather and all that for June in suburban New York--all kinds of trees and birds and sun, etc. (the details are in my intake form). Anyway, totally regular morning, except the fact that I was awakened by the sound of my own screaming. I had a nightmare, I can't remember it now, but something about being stuck in a vacuum. Does that happen in space? Are there vacuums in space? Or do you call that a black hole?

My daily existence has been pretty standard so far: shower, eat, work, evacuate, work, eat, emote, work, sleep, etc. All the basic systems are mostly functional. But I have been experiencing bouts of sweating, crying, screaming rage against the inevitability of death. Also, I've just noticed life-altering physiological changes (such as graying of the hair; wrinkling of the eyes known as “crow’s feet” because it looks like a bird stomped on my face; and gravity’s inevitable victory on my squishy bits, which have become squishier due to sitting on my ass all day because I work for corporate America).

Anyway, I think the tech guy might have poked something when he installed the microwhoosie. My wiring has gone nuts. Some backed-up synapses or misfiring synapses or something else is otherwise majorly twanked. Also, my bod feels inordinately sluggish and flubbery.

I want to talk to tech support. Please advise.

Sincerely,
Lola from Earth

***
TO: Lola2010.33 [Earth]

Dear Mr. or Mrs. LOLA FROM EARTH,

The technology we installed can, might, and often will amplify your experience of your species' existence. Obviously, we're paying you to record your empirical and ontological experience, so we want to make sure we get the goods.

Readings from your unit indicate you are experiencing HAVING A MIDLIFE CRISIS difficulty. The recommended protocol is to perform the function GET YOUR ASS IN GEAR AND DO IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT BEFORE YOU KICK OFF. This malfunction is level SERIOUS CRITICAL. If you do not rectify this malfunction, your hardware and software may be subject to YOU WILL BECOME A MISERABLE HEAP OF MEAT.

See instructions below and also your owner's manual. The recommended protocol has been culled from our extensive database of relevant statistical data research and cross-referenced with relevant statistical data regarding your species, age, sex, height, weight, ethnic ancestry, genetic encoding, IQ, and other relevant statistical data.

Please make the following recommended adjustments to your technology. If they do not resolve the problem, you may request another service ticket.

Please also fill out and submit for processing FORM 262A1: PRE-EXPERIMENT ANALYSIS; FORM 262A2: EXPERIMENT ANALYSIS; FORM 262A3: POST-EXPERIMENT ANALYSIS; FORM 262B: POST-ANALYSIS ANALYSIS; BLOOD AND/OR TISSUE SAMPLE (IF APPLICABLE); ALL OTHER RELEVANT STATISTICAL AND MATERIAL DATA, AS REQUESTED.

Warmly,
Customer Servitron 1174
Alien Anthropologist Research Group
AARG Sector G111

***

Analysis: Midlife crisis. All humanoid processes are jammed up due to wear-and-tear on the hardware and excessive strain on the software.

Diagnostic: Entire system reboot. Change everything about eating, sleeping, drinking, exercising, smoking, and thinking habits for 21 days to establish new habits.

Projected Result: Less suck, more deliciously alive.*

Requisition Requirements (to follow):

2 month supply brain drugs (for brain-chemical level correction, to prevent brain from massive mutiny attack due to nicotine withdrawal)
3 week supply nicotine lozenges (see previous re: massive mutiny brain attack)
1 box quinoa
various assorted vegetables, assorted (various)
3 week supply juice
1 Pilates DVD
1 Pilates band
1 Pilates ass (to be obtained)
3 week supply sticktoitiveness and/or gumption
hermitage
3 week supply patient friends/family members
1 massive hoard dark chocolate (massive)
1 bottle hot pink nail polish (quick drying)

*Note: This assumes survival.

***
TO: AARG-G@InterStellarNet.com.biz.gov
ATTN: Customer Servitron 1174

Dear Alien Anthropologist Research Group,

Thank you for your prompt response to my inquiry. I do not want to become a miserable heap of meat.

Regarding the requisitions and instructions: It's a very good list. Thanks for shipping the items so quickly. I totally wish I had a transporter! However, what exactly am I supposed to do with these items? Do they all go in a big pot and get boiled for fifteen minutes or something? (That is an example of sarcasm, which is very popular in New York.)

Seriously though, please advise re: requisition list, i.e., what I'm supposed to do here to avoid the heap of meat situation.

Sincerely,
Lola from Earth

***
TO: Lola2010.33 [Earth]

Dear Mr. or Mrs. LOLA FROM EARTH,

RE: SERVICE LOG #001

Diagnostic: Entire system reboot. Change everything about eating, sleeping, drinking, exercising, smoking, and thinking habits for 21 days to establish new habits.

Additional Notes: IT'S PRETTY SELF-EXPLANATORY. FIGURE IT OUT, I'VE GOT SERVICE TICKETS OUT THE SCANTRON OVER HERE. AND REMEMBER TO SUBMIT YOUR FORMS.

Warmly,
Customer Servitron 1174
Alien Anthropologist Research Group
AARG Sector G111