Planned Extinction Level Event

“Are you telling me…” Petunia trailed off, absolutely gob smacked.

“That humans are not alone in the universe, or that you’re being recruited to potentially eliminate another species?” The man across the diner table said very plainly then took a sip of his tea, then smiled while he relished the aroma. “Yes, that is correct. This tea that is green is spectacular.”

Petunia stared at him with a most perplexed expression then lowered her head into her hands. “To be absolutely clear Mr. Smythe,” she made sure to annunciate each word. “You’re telling me that there is intelligent life in the universe beyond what is on Earth, that I’m being recruited to help wipe one of these species, all in a very mundane manner… but that green tea is spectacular enough to elicit more of an emotional response than the world changing implications you just laid before me. Is that correct?”

Mr. Smythe took another long sip from his tea. “To be fair, I deal with these kinds of things far more frequently than I have the opportunity to indulge in such wonderfully verdant teas.” He took another long sip.

“You,” Petunia began, “‘deal with these kind of things’ far more frequently?” She brought her head up from her hands and made eye contact with the man. “What exactly do you do for NASA?”

“NASA? No. No, no, no. I do not work for that archaic institution. Do you have any idea how much they profited off of the crash landing in Roswell back in 47. It was borderline predatory, and the poor Xevolians that survived the crash were put through years of hell before they finally died.”

Petunia’s jaw dropped for a brief moment before she had a realization that she quickly vocalized. “Okay,” she said with a laugh. “You got me good. Where are the cameras?”

“Cameras?”

“Oh don’t be coy,” Petunia looked around the diner as she spoke, waiting for anyone come out from behind a counter and stand up, or come out from hiding in a booth, at any moment and admit that it was an elaborate caper. “I mean, I’m a little pissed off that I was catfished with the possibility of a job in a serious aerospace organization… but I can appreciate a good prank.” Mr. Smythe stared at her with a perplexed look on his face for several moments as her jubilant attitude and laughter died down when it was apparent that no one was coming out. “Nobody is coming out, are they?”

Mr. Smythe raised his cup of tea back up to his mouth. “Whatever would anyone come out of anywhere for?” He punctuated the sentence with a long slow, savored, sip.

It suddenly dawned upon Petunia how isolated she was in this diner. Other than the waitress that Petunia had not seen since Mr. Smythe’s tea was brought out, and a cook that she presumed was back in the kitchen, the diner was completely empty. Petunia did not do as good a job as she had hoped at hiding her discomfort, as Mr. Smythe openly commented on it.

“Is something the matter Miss Falen?” Petunia flinched at her apparent discomfort being addressed. “You seem to be jumpy all of the sudden.” The silence drew on, and Mr. Smythe kept staring at Petunia with a casual intensity.

“I just realized that we seem to be the only people here.” Petunia straightened her back in an attempt to show confidence. “It just seems odd for a diner to be so empty this time of day.”

Mr. Smythe took another slow sip of his green tea, finishing what was in the cup, then reached for more hot water to refill the cup. “That is intentional,” he said as he poured the water. “What we are discussing is not something we want the general public to hear or gossip about.”

“Just to be clear,” Petunia steeled herself, “you’re not a serial killer who is going to skin me alive and leave my body to float down a river?”

Mr. Smythe had been bringing up the fresh tea for a sip, and the cup paused midway up. “I will never understand how humans can be so worried about something that is statistically as improbable as being the victim of a serial killer. You were far more likely to be killed in a car crash on your way to this interview, but you probably did not think twice about your journey here.”

“No offense, but that doesn’t really sound like something a serial killer wouldn’t say.”

“And how would you know what is something a serial killer would or would not say miss Falen?” Mr. Smythe punctuated his sentence with another sip. “The truly terrifying thing about serial killers is supposed to be that they are almost indistinguishable from other humans, both in appearance and in outward personality.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“The internet. It is amazing how so much useful and useless information there is floating around on the world wide network.”

Petunia relaxed a little bit, as Mr. Smythe, despite being odd, did not seem to be dangerous… yet. “That is fair, I suppose. But why am I here, since this job application is obviously a joke or is fake.”

“The job in completely legitimate miss Falen.”

“Okay,” Petunia’s expression grew slightly smug. “Prove it.”

Mr. Smyth put down his coffee cup. “Prove it how?”

Petunia shrugged. “Dealer’s choice, as long as you prove it.”

Mr. Smythe cocked his head and thought for a moment. “I suppose we can prove it.” Mr. Smythe lifted his hands and clapped them twice.

Petunia, not really expecting anything, waited for a moment in silence. When she felt things were sufficiently awkward, she got ready to speak up, and then the entire diner seemed to shift. Walls flickered, and the inside of the diner was suddenly a very different location. The walls were silver and black, and the area was luminated by orange lighting. There was one large window, and the street that was outside the diner window was not there. There was nothing outside the window, but a field of black speckled by stars.

“What the hell?” Petunia yelled. “How did we leave the diner?”

“We didn’t.” Mr. Smythe picked his tea back up and took a sip. “My ship was disguised as a diner. We left shortly after you entered. You didn’t notice our departure because of the inertial dampeners”

“That’s abduction!”

“Hardly.” Mr. Smythe took another sip. “Or at least it was hardly. Had you refused the job we would have turned back around and dropped you off, and you would have been none the wiser.” Mr. Smythe took another sip, this time very long and drawn out. “Unfortunately that option no longer exists. Your being able to refuse the job was dependent on you not explicitly knowing of our existence. Now that you have affirmation that we exist, it is an abduction, and you will be doing the job.”

Petunia looked out the window, seeing amongst the stars a pale blue dot that was growing more and more faint.

“Will I at least be returned back once the job is done?” she asked.

Mr. Smythe did not answer. He just handed her a screen with information, conveniently in English. “I need to set a course,” he said, taking the last of his tea with him. Then he left.