Intergalactic 911: A Theist, by Joseph Wolfe. 2123 words, approx. 10 minute read.
Zed’s ship eased out a death groan, plopping into the tight parking spot and powering down. The twenty year old Starflight Zepplin was in dire need of…everything. But what it needed most of all was someone to take it to the scrapyard. Somehow, it ran on a wing and a prayer. Literally. One wing was missing and Zed prayed every time he turned it on that it would make it.
Zed tapped his forehead against the steering controls a few times, trying to do what the coffee had yet to accomplish. He looked up, rubbed his eyes, and noticed the bumper sticker on the ship in front of him.
“Tell your god I said hi.” A sketch of the flying spaghetti monster was right next to it. Funny enough, there was an alien race that quite closely resembled the flying spaghetti monster, but as far as Zed knew, they didn’t make any claims of godhood.
Or maybe that was more fitting.
Zed pushed the door open–the automatic opener had broken before he ever bought the thing. He stumbled out, thermos and lunch bag in hands, and headed into his nine-to-five. Well, nine-to-whenever-the-heck-you-could-sneak-out-without-management-seeing-you-leave was more like it. Fourteen hour days were not uncommon.
His first stop–the breakroom. He had thirty minutes still and liked to refill his coffee thermos. Garrney had pulled some strings and got actual earth-grown coffee put in the breakroom. Since Zed was the only other person who drank it, the stuff was always in good supply.
“I don’t understand what you mean,” one of Zed’s coworkers said to another. There were three of them sitting at one of the tables having lunch. He recognized them, but didn’t know them. The one who had just spoken was a Bonbis. The Bonbi were a humanoid race with bluish skin and four eyes. Not glasses–just four eyes. All on the front of the face. “Where exactly does this god-creature exist? In another dimension?”
“I don’t know, I just heard about it watching some debates on the Galaxynet,” the Dro answered. That race was reptilian, and they walked on all fours somewhat similar to earth alligators.
“And they did not explain?” the third one asked in an accent that drew out the last word longer than necessary. That one was a Bugman. One of the first alien races humans discovered, and they did not get a very creative name.
“Uh, they might have. But it was so weird I didn’t understand it,” the Dro said. His chair was more like a ramp that allowed him to sit at the table, and his long arms accommodated the rest.
“What did you say this person called himself?” the Bonbis asked. “A Theist?”
“No, I think that’s the opposite term. Atheists do not believe in the divine creature. This one was a Theist.”
“That’s what I said!” The Bonbis’s eyes opened and closed rapidly.
“No, you said atheist. This was a theist.”
Zed let his head drop and bang into the top of the coffee maker.
“Oh, he looked like that guy!” the Dro said. “What’s your name and more importantly what do you know about theists?”
Zed sighed. “Only that I am one.”
“A theist?”
“Don’t start that again!” the Bonbis complained.
“Sure,” Zed answered.
“Do you require black drink to communicate with your divine being?”
“Some days more than others.”
“Do other drinks allow greater or lesser communication?” the Bugman asked.
“Whiskey usually takes things either direction.”
“Woah,” the Dro said. “That is pretty cool.”
Zed chuckled, his annoyance slowly shifting to amusement.
The three left him alone after that, and his last sip of coffee corresponded with his clock in. Showtime.
Six hours into his twelve, Zed was about as in the zone as he would get that day. Not too many calls, and nothing spicy. A couple traffic accidents between ship models whose autopilots had aged into malfunction and the pilots weren’t ready to take the controls. There were a few false alarms, situations that sounded like they could evolve into something bad, but stayed pretty tame.
A rare break in the calls gave Zed a moment to peek out from his station and look across the floor. Two supervisors were huddled around the computer of the Dro from the breakroom, headsets on, listening in. They looked…
“Confused,” Zed said to himself. He knew as well as anyone that this job was confusing at times, but the supers were both Gnodinians, green-skinned humanoids with high intelligence and high empathy. If they couldn’t solve the problem, nobody c–
The Dro suddenly pointed at Zed. Both Gnodinians looked over at him in unison, then removed their headsets and walked over.
“Zed Guarde?”
“Yes?” Zed stretched out the one word question, panic levels rising fast. He was trying to think of what he said to the Dro that could have gotten him into trouble.
“We have an interesting call we do not know how to handle. Your colleague, Mr. Panadan, thinks you can help. We are going to patch you in, I will stay here and assist you.”
“Sounds like the good deal plan thing,” Zed blurted out, trying not to exhale a massive sigh of relief.
The two Gnodinians looked at each other briefly before shrugging off what they probably thought was a strange human tick. The one that stayed took a seat next to Zed and equipped the supervisor headset, then punched in a few commands to tie into the call.
“–you that I want to speak to someone who understands us,” sounded the voice from the other side of the call. The call went silent after that; the supervisor motioned with his hands for Zed to speak.
“Hi there sir, this is Zed with Intergalactic 911, how can I help?”
“What? What happened to the other guy?”
“I’m still with your sir, but Zed is a theist,” the Dro said.
“A theist? Does that mean you believe in God, Zed?”
Zed wasn’t quite sure where to go with this conversation. Intergalactic 911 had procedures and prepared statements and questions you were supposed to ask before getting into the meat of the emergency. But the Dro had already gathered the caller’s name, address, and species, and Peace Officers were already on the way. Zed noticed the caller was also a human.
“I do, sir.”
“Alright…well,” the caller suddenly turned sheepish. “I…I think I did a bad thing and…I want to turn myself in.”
“What’s your name?” Zed asked. The caller’s name was already on the screen, but it was good to build a connection if there was time.
“Tim. Tim Sharp.”
“OK Tim, can you tell me if you have any weapons on you?”
“Why do you want to know that?”
“I want to keep you and everyone else safe, Tim.” Zed looked over at his supervisor to see how he was doing; the Gnodin gave him a slight nod.
“Yeah, I have an old earth style Glock.”
“OK, can you put that in another room for me?”
“I’m not doing that until I know I can trust you,” Tim snapped.
“That’s fair; but I just want to keep everyone safe. Is someone threatening you?”
“No.”
“Then how can I keep everyone safe if guns are involved?”
There was a pause; Zed had taken a risk. He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.
Something heavy made a thunk noise on the other side of the call.
“OK, it’s on the table for now.”
“That’s a good start Tim. Now, can you tell me what you did that you think was bad?”
“I…I kidnapped someone.”
The supervisor was at the keys before Zed could type in this information, he signaled for Zed to keep talking.
“Is this person unharmed?”
“Yeah…for now.”
“And who is this person?’
“My ex. She was saying bad things about me on the Social and…I just snapped. I have her locked in the basement right now…I think I almost did something really bad…and I got scared and I just wanted to talk to someone, so I called.”
“I understand that, Tim.”
“Hey, what’s going on! Did you send cops? Get them back!”
“It’s alright Tim, they are there to help, I promise. They will keep their distance until you and I have had a chance to chat.” Zed noticed his supervisor punching in a request for a hostage negotiator. Once the Intergalactic Special Investigators, ISI, got involved, things were going to escalate fast.
“I don’t like this at all! I thought I could trust you!” Tim shouted.
Zed muted his mic. “Sir, can we wait on the call to ISI? And have the Peace Officers take a step back?”
The Gnodin looked at him. “That’s breach of protocol.”
“I know, and you probably think I’m asking a lot.” Zed couldn’t believe what he was saying. He was always on thin ice and worried about being fired but…he just had a feeling this was the right thing to do. “I think we can get everyone out safe if we give Tim some time.”
“I’ve got a gun!” Tim shouted.
The Gnodin clicked over to separate line to order the Peace Officers to fall back, but stay nearby. He did not click send on the request to ISI.
“Hey, wait a minute, they are backing off,” Tim added.
“I asked them to so we could chat,” Zed said.
“OK…well…maybe I can trust you.”
“I think you can, Tim, but it would go a long way if you could let your ex out of the house. Can you do that for me?”
Another long pause, but finally Tim said, “I don’t know…I just…want to know if God can forgive me.”
The sincerity in the question caught Zed a little off guard. “I…It’s what I’m banking on, Tim.”
“If I let her go, will they still arrest me?”
The Gnodin supervisor looked at Zed.
“Yeah, at this point they have to, Tim. But if you let her go now, and surrender yourself to the authorities, it will go a lot better for you.”
Silence.
“I don’t know you very well, Tim, but I know you’re the kind of man who made this phone call instead of taking things further. That tells me you’re the kind of man who wants to make things right. Can you do the right thing and let her go?”
Silence again. The Gnodin pulled up the command for the ISI negotiator again.
“Continuing with protocol,” he said into his mic; but before he hit the send button, Tim’s voice sounded on the other line.
“I can do that, Zed. Give me a minute.”
“Can you stay on the line?” Zed asked, but the thumping sound that came through suggested Tim had set the phone down. The sounds coming from the other line were faint, but Tim started calling for someone named Lorraine to “go ahead and go.”
A moment later, the Gnodin said, “Peace Officers confirm a woman is exiting the house. They are intercepting her now.”
“Alright, it’s done,” Tim said. “What do I do now?”
“Come out of the house slowly, and with your hands up. No guns. Can we agree to that, Tim?”
“Yeah…yeah we can. I…I’m sorry. Thanks.” The line went dead.
Zed feared the worst, but another moment later, the supervisor said, “Peace Officers confirming suspect is in custody, and no one is injured.”
A collective cheer rose up in the call center; a number of others had been paying attention to what was happening.
“Well done, Mr. Guarde,” the supervisor said as he removed his headset. “I know you have a performance review coming up soon; I will put in a good word for you.”
“Th-thank you,” Zed said, shaking from the nerves rushing out of him.
The rest of the day was pretty uneventful compared to that. Zed completed his shift, his evening ritual of video games, dinner, and a little bit of scotch whiskey. The next day started with his usual cup of coffee and praying his old Zepplin would get him to work again. It did.
Stumbling into the breakroom, he noticed the same guys on break from the day before. They all gave him a nod, which he returned as he unscrewed the top to his thermos and availed the glorious coffee machine.
Picking up the pot, he noticed it was empty. He blinked, then turned around. The Bugman, Dro, and Bonbis lifted three paper coffee cups to their mouths and drank.
“We are theists now!” the Dro announced to Zed.
Zed blinked, a little confused, then walked over to the coffee grounds canister to start another pot. Removing the lid, he saw it was empty, then sighed.
“This is what I get for proselytizing.”
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this story and would like to read more Intergalatic 911, check out the links below to more stories.
Intergalatic 911: Technically Issues
Intergalatic 911: See Spot? Run!
