First Day Crisis

     “Your station’s here.” Commander Kel gestured with one red, meaty hand toward a workstation directly below the observation window. “The sun set three hours ago. The subjects usually sleep through the night, so you shouldn’t have much to do.” 

     Zel inched forward. The glistening white control console beckoned to him with its bright buttons and multitude of switches. Zel lowered himself onto the small stool and raised the seat to reach the first row of controls.

     “I’m going to get some fried shrimp legs,” Kel announced, giving the short tentacles of his mustach a swirl. “I think you can handle things for ten minutes. When I get back, I’ll show you what the controls do. Don’t touch anything while I’m gone.” With an absentminded wave over his shoulder, Kel strode from the observation bridge. 

     Zel glanced around the empty control room. He stared down at all the controls. So many buttons and switches. He was suddenly uncertain he could remember the purpose of all these controls. 

     He reached one blue tubular finger toward a round purple button, then paused and withdrew his hand. The Commander had ordered him not to touch anything.

     Zel gave an experimental spin on the stool, sailing around as the stool squeaked in protest to each rotation. He pushed off the console wall, his feet dangling above the floor, and the stool slid sideways along its track to the end of the console. He pushed again and his seat slid back along its track.

     He looked out the observation window. A little village nestled at the base of the volcano. From their hidden base inside the volcano, they could study every aspect of these primitives’ lives.

     He’d read the operations manual twice in preparation for today. He didn’t want anything to go wrong during his first day as Junior Nocturnal Observational Specialist at the Mount Herculean Outpost.

     A small blue button began to blink at one side of the console. Zel slid toward the button. He glanced back at the doors. The Commander would be back at any moment. 

     Blink. Blink. Blink.

     Zel reached a finger toward the blinking button. He paused, resisting its siren call. 

     Blink. Blink. Blink. 

     Zel struck the button like a snake striking its prey. The blinking stopped. He glanced again at the door. It remained closed. Zel released a breath.

     Beepbeepbeep. 

     Zel spun his chair toward the chirping sound. 

     Beepbeepbeep. 

     A yellow indicator light flashed in sync with the beeps just above an orange toggle switch. 

     Beepbeepbeep. 

     Zel looked back at the door. How long did the Commander say he’d be gone? 

     Beepbeepbeep. 

     Zel placed a finger on the smooth orange toggle. He looked back toward the door. He held his breath. 

     Beepbeepbeep. 

     Zel flipped the toggle. The silence stretched. He smiled. Maybe figuring out this console wouldn’t be so hard after all.

     Errp. Errp. Errp. Errp. 

     Zel jumped. The chime grew louder with each errp. Three lights began to wink in varying degrees of urgency across the console. Zel bit his lip. Had ten minutes passed yet? He looked at the door, panic rose within him. If the Commander returned to find warning lights flashing and alarms chirping, Zel knew he’d be blamed. He punched several buttons. 

     Errp. Errp. Errp. 

     He flipped a few toggles. 

     Errp. Woop. Errp. Woop. Errp. Woop. 

     That did not sound good.

     He frantically pushed all the buttons within reach. More warning sounds and lights joined the symphony, building to a cacophony of light and sound.

     A thin slime leaked from pores along Zel’s neck and pits, creating grey splotches on his stiff white uniform. He needed to do something!

     A large red button at the top center of the console drew Zel’s attention. The bright red color called to him like a port in a storm.

     He lept for the button, slapping it with both hands. Silence filled the observation bridge. Zel held his breath. The silence stretched. Zel sighed. He smiled and wiped the slime from the back of his neck. 

     Thunk. All lights in the room went out and every console shut down.

     Zel gulped.

     With a click and a hum, the lights flicked back on and the consoles lit up. Everything looked operational again. Zel grinned. A reboot button. Crisis averted.

     The door swept open, Commander Kel marched into the room, a fried shrimp leg dangling from his mouth.

     “Alright,” the Commander leaned over Zel’s shoulder, crumbs raining from his mouth, “the most important thing to remember is you never touch that big red button at the top of the console.”

     Zel’s mouth felt suddenly dry. “Why? Does it reboot the system…or something?”

     The Commander glowered down at Zel. “Pushing it would cause the total annihilation of our research subjects.”

     Zel gasped.

     The Commander gave a deep chuckle, “Just kidding!” The next instant, all joviality vanished. “But, seriously, it’d be bad.”

     Zel gave a nervous laugh, his voice coming out an octave higher than normal. Did they always keep the control room this warm? He pulled at his collar and looked out the observational window at the little village. Peace and serenity dominated the scene. 

      The Commander was no doubt joking…. Right? Exploiting a junior scientist’s nerves on his first day was a sport for seasoned scientists.

     “Don’t worry,” Commander Kel thumped Zel on the back, nearly launching him off the stool, “you’ll do just fine. Let’s go get some dumplings!”

     Zel nodded enthusiastically. He lept off the chair and padded happily after the Commander toward the door.

     A small red light sprang to life, blinking at the top of the console. Large red letters scrolled across the observation window screen:

     “Defense system activated. Catastrophic reaction with natural environment imminent. Please take necessary precautions to evacuate Pompeii subjects. Have a lovely day.”

     Zel gulped. Maybe the Commander wouldn’t notice…

     With a concussive boom, fire erupted from the volcano’s mouth and raced toward the village. 

     Zel’s skin faded to a pale blue. He was soooo fired.