Kal
I’ve mentioned before that I knew a lot about humans.
On Xaerea, I’d read nearly every academic paper, seen every documentary, watched as much human media as I could get my tentacles on—even when the options were limited.
So I had seen plenty of humans in my lifetime, at least, on screens and paper.
The woman in front of me had to be the most beautiful human I had ever seen. She was a riot of color. Tan skin, pink hair, brilliant blue eyes. Shorter than me, with a full figure and a smile that could melt the ice on any of Xaerea’s moons.
The truth was, I would have said anything to keep talking to her. Anything she asked of me, I would have said yes. Which was how I ended up in an apron with a tray full of eggs and no clue what to do next.
Somehow, I had managed to get a new job offer while I was still technically employed on my home planet, successfully blended in as a human (so far), and met the loveliest human in existence.
As far as luck went, my good luck began to outweigh the bad, if you didn’t take into account that I had recently launched myself through space accidentally and triggered a manhunt that would probably result in losing my real job and possibly jail time.
Besides, I had long been enamored with the human concept of looking at a glass as half-full rather than half-empty, ever since encountering it in my studies. Another reason other Xaereans found me odd—my ability to overlook hard facts and find the bright side to almost any situation.
Though even I could see how my positive outlook wasn’t always the best approach, since I had exactly zero experience in anything related to human food, and I was slightly terrified to say otherwise.
Being from Xaerea wasn’t much help, either, because our main source of nutrition came from pre-made nutritional formulas and supplements that were both unappetizing and packed with everything our kind needed to stay alive and healthy.
Entirely optimized for efficiency and sustenance, not enjoyment.
On the other hand, wouldn’t it have been strange to agree and then immediately back out? Surely that would have made me look even more out of place.
There was a brief moment where I considered running. Or simply explaining to the beautiful, intimidating woman that I was not there for the job—it was just a misunderstanding.
My body felt slightly off balance, either from the hu-suit or the new circumstance, and I began to doubt…everything. What had I done? What was I doing? Why was I like this, and how could I be so, so stupid?
Whenever I began to spiral like this, I had to close my eyes and count while focusing on breathing. It wasn’t the end of the world; it was the beginning of an adventure. I had always wanted an adventure, and here I was, finally on a real one.
“I need three eggs over easy, one over medium, and a sunny-side up, stat!”
I opened my eyes to find the woman stirring and flipping and plating in a whirl of action. In her natural habitat, I thought. Entirely at ease.
“What are you doing just standing there…sorry. What’s your name again?”
Her attention was trained on me, captivating me. What was my name? I hadn’t considered that I would need a human name to go with my new human identity. I considered giving my full Xaerean name, but I worried it would give me away immediately. Instead, I went with the first thing that came to mind.
“You can call me Kal,” I said, giving her a shortened, easier-to-pronounce version of my name.
“Okay. Kal, I’m Lola.” She held a hand to her chest.
Lola. A lovely name for a lovely human.
She continued, “I know I kind of thrust this on you and everything. But if you seriously want the job, I’m going to need you to start cracking eggs or get the heck out of my kitchen.”
Cracking eggs. I wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but I supposed I could give it a try.
How hard could it be to crack one of these small, white things?
I picked one up and held it close to my face to examine it.
Tapped on it lightly. Nothing happened. Held it along the top and bottom and applied pressure.
Took it in the palm of my hand and squeezed. Still nothing.
The sound of metal scraping on metal from nearby startled me, and I dropped the egg. It fell to the counter with a crack, a slimy, clear and yellow liquid oozing out.
Aha!
I realized I must have been doing it all wrong at first. This was how to crack eggs. I picked up another and slammed it to the surface with another satisfying sound. Again and again, I repeated this process until I’d worked my way through a line of eggs from the tray.
It wasn’t so hard, this cooking thing. Or blending in as a terranaut, for that matter.
Hadn’t I already successfully convinced multiple humans that I was one of them?
With my extensive knowledge of human customs, fitting in as a human couldn’t be too terribly difficult if I kept thinking like a terranaut.
Wear the suit, act normal, and lie low until the search party came for me.
I even momentarily wondered if I could use this experience in my defense when I got back home. Reasons my department shouldn’t just let me keep my job, but promote me to full-time terranaut. Could be worth a shot considering the amount of trouble I would be in otherwise.
“What the hell are you doing?” There was a shout, right as I dropped another egg on the pile of shells and viscous liquid insides on the counter.
I turned to find Lola watching me, wide-eyed and red-faced as I sent another egg to the countertop.
“Cracking eggs!” I thought it should have been obvious, but I was more than happy for another opportunity to talk to her.
Lola looked to the eggs, then back to me, then back to the eggs.
“Are you pranking me right now, is that what this is?” She grabbed a cloth and swept the mess into a bin before rounding on me, finger jabbing the air. “Did Walter send you here to mess up my shift? Well, you can tell him to shove eggs up his—”
“No!” I cut her off. Clearly, I had done something wrong, but I wasn’t sure what. All I knew was that I didn’t want her to be angry like this. It was never my intention to cause trouble. But trouble seemed to always find me, no matter where I was—even galaxies away. I deflated at the thought.
I had naively assumed that being here, despite the unfortunate circumstances, was an opportunity for a fresh start. For a moment in time, I wouldn’t be Kal the screwup or Kal the guy who never quite fit in. I would just be…Kal. Myself. The real me, without the baggage.
You don’t belong here either.
The negative thought circled my mind, a dark moon on a fixed orbital rotation.
I couldn’t help but listen to the growing self-doubt as I watched Lola’s nostrils flare and eyes narrow in anger.
Her expression was one I was all too familiar with.
Frustration, disappointment. It settled deep within, dropping hard like a meteor in my stomach.
I wanted to fix it. To bring Lola’s smile back, however I could. In this case, I chose honesty.
“I’m sorry,” I said, holding my hands out in apology. “I’m—I didn’t come here for a job. But I saw this place, and when I came in, everyone seemed so happy here. And I guess I just wanted to be part of that.”
The muscles around her eyes softened into something more like pity, and the meteor in my stomach turned into a black hole.
This reaction, too, was one I was familiar with. So few people had believed in me—truly believed in me—in my lifetime. And here on Earth, I had already added another doubter to the list.
“Well…”
The girl called Al popped into the kitchen. “Got a party of ten out there and I’m about to take their orders.”
“Shit. Okay. You, Kal. If you can’t help here, I need you out of the way. I’m putting you on dishes for now, and we’ll talk when the rush is over. Got it?”
“Yes, chef,” I said, mimicking the other human’s words.
Al choked on a laugh, and Lola lifted an eyebrow, the corners of her lips twitching upward. When I didn’t move, she wrapped her hand around my wrist and dragged me across the kitchen, depositing me in a room off to the side.
“This is the dish pit. Dishes get dirty, you clean them.” She pointed around the room, calling out instructions. “Scraps go here,” she said, scraping residue from a pan. “Rinse here,” she said, turning on the faucet and pulling the nozzle down to spray water on a dirty pot.
“Put rinsed dishes there,” she pointed to a large metal appliance, “pull this down, and press that button. It’ll beep when they’re done. Unload, refill, repeat.”
She dried her hands on her apron and stepped away, back to the chaos of the kitchen. “It’s simple. And if you have any questions,” she turned her back to me, “keep them to yourself.”