Xana's Second First Day by Theta Mandel and Thien Valdram

Xana's Second First Day
by Theta Mandel and Thien Valdream

Xana’s Second First Day

By Theta Mandel and Thien Valdram.

Suffocating memory foam enveloped Xana’s lithe frame as the cruel wind howled outside, serenading her with a cacophony of hurried knocking against her window as she tossed and turned in the night. All her time on Earth and she still hadn’t gotten used to storms like this; her first day on the job, her real job, she’d been exhausted after being kept up by similar weather, and the irony didn’t elude her that history was repeating itself now, on the eve of her great deceit.
At least the bedding’s more comfortable. Once it had become clear that she really was going to stay, Charles had taken her to buy a new mattress and other bits and bobs, and now, the room felt like her own. But tonight, that was little comfort; sleep still ran from her, as fast and as far as it could. Not that she had the strength to chase Mister Sandman for long. Worries of what was to come the next morning plagued her mind, torturing her every thought; what if tomorrow is as terrifying as it was the first time? What if there’s something truly sinister, lurking in the shadows, and I’m not strong enough to stop it? What if my team needs me, and I can’t --
My team.
When had she started thinking of them as hers?
Quickly, she pushed the thought down; it was big and scary and looming, the kind of thing that hunkered over you and had you watching your back, keeping you on edge so you didn’t notice the knife at your neck until it was too late. The more you have, the more you have to lose. Fear began to pull at her skin, human skin that was too large and was all anyone else ever saw, and it gnawed at her skin and pushed her into the claustrophobic mattress and pinned her body down and slobbered over her, encompassing her very being in such warmth that she didn’t even realise she had closed her eyes until --
Thin spindles of grey grass tickled her exposed shins, and as the pleasantly warm breeze caressed her cheeks, she at once knew she was home. Her real home, the one she’d fled; but there was no fear, no worry underlying her every step. She was not unwanted anymore. Not unloved. She danced through the meadow and laughed, high voice tinkling pleasantly against the salt crystals in the air. She had forgotten how much joy there was in the simple things while they’d been gone; oh, how much she had missed laughing her real laugh! Her soft skin, free of the charade, her real frame, so much smaller and lighter than her earthly disguise — she collapsed to the ground and soaked in the wonder of it all. A body that was hers.
Nothing good lasts. She should have known better than to bask in something so loving. She scurried back and froze as clouds gathered overhead; they drew in faster and faster, whipping up a storm, and in mere moments the wind was threatening to snatch her up and steal her away. She hunkered down and clung to the weak grass with all her might, wishing for the thick Earth roots and her clunky, sturdy Earth body, until she was joined by another form, standing strong. One almost as familiar as her own.
“How could you?” Chiara, her best friend of over a decade, kicked her further back into the ground. She cried out, letting go, and as she did so she raised her hands to her face to protect herself: they were covered in blood.
“I should never have placed my trust in you.” A blink, and her new life replaced her old as Charles crouched by her side. 
“No, please, I didn’t — you don’t understand —” She tried, but the words didn’t come, and her new boss towered over her. Charles’s normally welcoming face was cold and unforgiving. 
A circle began to form, though somehow, through the bodies, the winds still reached her. A circle of all the people who she had let down, all the people she still had left to fail; her new team, her old family, the friends she’d left behind; she sobbed as they drew closer, hurling accusations like sharpened flintstones.
“I let you into my home…”
“Murderer!”
“Monster.”
“Traitor.” Olivia’s eyes shined bright; she must have heard of Queen Alarna, and had turned against her once she’d found out what she’d done.
Jae-Sun spat at her feet, and she flinched away. Aoife merely stared. 
The crowd grew and grew, swarming around her as she cowered in place, screeching and whooping as they began to call for revenge… an eye for an eye, the bounty-hunters who had recognised her and tried to collect began to call, advancing as she crawled back, only to bump against Aoife’s legs. She scrambled up to her feet, turning to her team, begging each in turn to help her, but one by one they turned away. Finally, she reached Charles once more --
“Let me out! Help me! Please!” She screamed as the hunters closed in; he moved, only to shove her back into the arms of the jeering hunters. She felt their weapons press against her back, the way they turned into standard-issue police stasers, saw the flashing lights… the blood streaked her clothes as she scrabbled against them, desperate to explain, but the words choked in her throat.
She saw Charles, looking on, satisfied that justice was prevailing at last. Her mothers cried and turned away; at least your grandmother isn’t here to see what you’ve become. Chiara stood on the edge of the crowd, and she tried to call out through her tears, but she was only looking on in a resigned, betrayed kind of grief, and then her face began to morph once more, the warm sunlight behind her growing brighter and brighter, obscuring her new face from view as Xana was carried away. 
No one believed her. She didn’t even believe herself. She stopped struggling.
The light continued to grow, and she opened her eyes.
Sunlight streamed through the windows as Xana blinked the nightmare away. It was a new day, her first day, which meant exhaustion and fear couldn’t keep her down. 
It was time to go to work.
She began to calm her rapid breathing as she advanced through her morning routine. Focusing on each step through shaking sobs, she brought herself back to reality. This wasn’t like her first day at SIGNET. Charles didn’t knock on her door this time; she was almost glad, as though she could have done with the comfort of his company, she wasn’t sure she would be able to look him in the eye. 
Lies built up like storms around her; she thought, right now, one more ‘I’m fine’ would make the pile topple.
Taking on a new identity and starting afresh almost seemed preferable; a whole new person to invent, with a whole new set of lies to tell. A clean slate. And maybe the new person could pretend to be a little better.
Maybe the new Xana could bear a few more lies.

Her human rituals prepared her for the role she played; usually, she donned a plain t-shirt, jeans, and a leather jacket, her holographic transmitter completing the human disguise. Today, Xana the SIGNET agent was replaced by Xana the shop employee, and the new woman wore a slightly itchy uniform that paired well with her eye-bags and ‘get me out of here!’ attitude. She took a steadying breath in front of the mirror as she tugged her hair into a company-policy-compliant ponytail. 
The disguise was perfect. The ritual had prepared her for the role of a lifetime: a woman who hated her job.
Sighing, she opened her door and climbed down the stairs into the new day.
How did I ever let the others talk me into this?

“Oh, there you are — are you nearly ready to go? Our shifts start in nearly half an hour, so we really shouldn’t leave it much longer. Better eat fast.” Charles was waiting downstairs, and she nearly burst out laughing, her worries forgotten at the sight of his uniform. The same black trousers as hers hung loose about his hips, clearly a little tight around his middle, and his yellow polo was equally ill-fitting. It lacked the usual gravitas of his burgundy pea coat, replaced by something entirely… mundane. 
He looked on, bemused. “What is it?”
“That’s not you!” She finally managed, spluttering. “That’s nothing like you!”
He inclined his head and chortled gently. “I’m inclined to agree,” he said, looking down distastefully at the outfit. “Yellow really isn’t my color. Come on, eat up — I promise, no grease this time. I’ve learned my lesson!” 
She downed her tea quickly, eating the cereal he’d prepared before grabbing some toast for the journey. The weather was growing colder, and she and Charles both pulled thick winter coats on as they made their way to the car. By the time the heating kicked in, her toast had frozen almost solid. Grimacing, she left it to one side, deciding that this wasn’t a good omen for the rest of the day. 
She looked out of the windows as they grew closer to the York branch of Freshfields supermarket; butterflies beat their tiny wings in her stomach as she reminded herself that it wouldn’t be for long.
Just until we can figure out what’s making these people disappear. 
She rehearsed answers to questions people might ask her again and again in her mind — where was she from, what was her name, what was her last job. Humans were funny about that last one. She only had to pass for normal long enough to find out something useful, and then she could return to the job she loved, with the team who counted on her; but her practiced responses were swallowed by her swirling fears as they drew nearer, and her careful construction fell away.
Once she was inside, she wouldn’t have Charles, or the rest of the team; for this to work, they would have to convince their new colleagues that they were strangers.
Her practiced lies had failed her. From here on out, she would have to rely only on herself. Her new self.
Finally, they had arrived. Charles parked a few streets away so they wouldn’t be seen together.
“Remember,” he cautioned, “you’re here for a good reason. Don’t lose sight of that. I’ll meet you here at the end of your shift.”
And with that, she took on her new role.

“Xana, you’ll be working in the bakery,” the store manager, Gary Wheeler, told her. “Y’know, baking bread, serving customers, that sort of thing. Linda here’ll show you the ropes; she’s the bakery manager”.
Xana’s face fell; she’d expected this to be somewhat menial of course, but a bakery? And, customer service? She’d only been on this planet just over a year, how was she supposed to do that? Interacting with people… somehow that scared her almost as much as the idea of an alien threat.
“Is something the matter?” Linda raised an eyebrow, her tone was demanding and controlling. 
“No, of course not,” Xana replied quickly. She was here to be undercover, and that meant doing her job, whatever that was.
Linda eyed her suspiciously. “Good. In that case, meet me in the bakery after you’ve filled out your paperwork and all that. And don’t take too long, I don’t have all day to be showing you the ropes. Not if I want to maintain my SPIMS score.”
Xana resisted any urge to talk back; if Linda was her manager that meant she was in charge of her. Best not to make her angry, least not unless she knew Linda was a threat.
Of course, it took her almost an hour to fill out the paperwork, despite Charles’ insistence; it had been far more complicated than the SIGNET employment paperwork as she hadn’t known what to sign or where or what most things were, and she suspected Sarah, the personnel manager, hadn’t the patience for her foreigner excuse. Especially after she muttered something along the lines of ‘I doubt you’ll even still be here by the time this is processed anyway’.
But eventually it was done, and he was properly given her nametag. Naturally of course it read ‘Zara’ instead of ‘Xana’, and Sarah had reluctantly sent out for another one.
Then, finally, she left the personnel office and headed to the bakery. It was a small alcove into the side of the store, with its own counter and staff, only one of whom was in at the time.
“Oh, morning! You must be the new girl… ‘Zara’ huh?”
“It’s Xana — they printed it wrong. And you’re Habib right?”
“Habib Ahmed. It’s good to have another worker; been just me and Linda here on Mondays for a while now, it’s a pita we couldn’t get more.”
“Pita?”
“It’s… it’s a type of bread,” Habib chuckled. “It’s a pun.”
Xana growled a little at that. But before they could talk further, Linda returned. “There you are, what took you so long?”
“Paperwork… what am I supposed to be doing here?”
“It’s a bakery,” Linda sighed. “Making and selling bread…” She looked her up and down.  “Where did they say you were from again?”
“… France,” Xana said flatly.
Linda sighed again. “Alright, fine, I’ll take it from the top. But if this hurts my SPIMS score I’m taking it to HR.”
“I’ve… been meaning to ask about that. What is SPIMS?”
Habib chimed in: “Oh it’s this new productivity system. It monitors employees to make sure they’re working properly and productively. It’s been a hell of a wheat ever since they installed it.”
Xana sighed; another substitution pun. Was this really what she was gonna be stuck with this whole time?
Linda replied: “Yes, exactly. Which is why you should be doing your work, Ahmed.”
“Yes Linda, sorry,” Habib rubbed the back of his head awkwardly before turning back to the oven.
Linda said, “Come on, Xana, I’ll show you what you’re supposed to do. Please do try to pay attention.”

Xana picked up on what she was supposed to do quicker than she expected. They made different kinds of bread and pastry. Pastries existed back home, but here they were made from a combination of raw sugars, salts, oils, a powder known as flour made from a kind of grass called wheat and some kind of small fungus called ‘yeast’.
Nonetheless, Linda spent longer than necessary explaining specific settings on the ovens and other such things, with Xana getting progressively more frustrated until finally Linda said, ‘Hopefully now you understand what we’re supposed to be doing’.
“Of course,” Xana said through gritted teeth. Linda reminded her of the authorities that had originally arrested her, putting on the image of politeness and due process, but secretly they had wanted to watch her die. It took all her willpower not to wipe that smug condescending grin off of Linda’s face. “Thank you,” she managed to make herself say instead.

It got easier after that point. Linda backed off a little, and Xana was able to get to work. The process wasn’t particularly difficult: mix the dough, knead the dough, bake the bread. Sometimes she could even get away with using her extra two arms, invisible underneath her hologram projector, to speed things up — at least when no one was looking. The job wasn’t difficult, but it was boring, unfulfilling. She’d been worried about a monster… but there was no monster. And somehow that was worse.
“How do you work so fast?” Habib asked. “You just got here and you’re keeping up really well!”
“It’s my job, I’m just doing it to the best of my ability,” Xana replied.
Habib smiled “Rye are you so serious? Loosen up a bit, have some fun.”
“I’m not here to have fun,” Xana responded, deadpan.
Habib looked at her. “C’mon, look I really appreciate you taking this job; we’ve been barley getting by since Eddie disappeared.”
Xana’s head whipped around. “Disappeared?”
“Yeah he just… didn’t show up for work one day. I tried swinging round to his place but… he wasn’t home.”
“Aren’t you worried about him?” Xana asked plainly.
Habib waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, it’s his life, not mine. I miss having him around, but hey, if I had the cash, I’d skip town too.”
“You don’t have to be formally reprimanded to skip town, y’know.”
“Heh, donut tempt me.”
Xana sighed… “We don’t even make donuts.”
“Look Xana, you’re not going to stick around if you treat this job like a chore.”
“I… just wish I’d been a security guard. I’m good at that kinda thing.”
“Well the new guy they got there’s ex-military so… y’know.”
“... Yeah, yeah I know.”
“So… you’re French, huh?” Habib asked, curiously.
Xana nodded noncommittally.
Habib continued: “Nice place, your home?”
“Oh, it was…” Xana recalled her homeworld… then the pain of leaving it. The nightmares made it impossible to forget. “But I haven’t been back in… a long time.”
After a moment, she cursed herself for being so open. Returning to her work, she quashed how tedious it felt, how suffocating. So unlike her SIGNET job; there was nothing to do here but the same repetitive tasks over and over again. She was only really even putting in the work to up her SPIMS score… whatever that did.
“So… about SPIMS…” Xana began.
“Oh c’mon, Xana, you don’t really wanna talk about that.” Habib put a hand on her shoulder. “Look, you seem upset, annoyed…”
“None of your business.” Xana shook off his hand. It was impolite, but she really wasn’t in the mood for politeness.
“Excuse me.” A customer’s voice.
Habib looked to Xana. “You take this one, I need to finish this…”
Xana froze momentarily: this was the part of the job she’d been most dreading.
“Welcome to the Freshfields local bakery,” she said, flatly, heart clearly not in it. “How can I help you?” “Two baguettes and a loaf of sourdough,” the customer replied.
“Coming up.” Xana searched the shelves and picked out and bagged a loaf of sourdough. She glanced over to Habib. “Where are the baguettes again?”
“Seriously?” Linda sputtered, walking over from the oven. “Those ones.” She pointed. “You should know that. You’re from France, aren’t you?”
“We… didn’t have them in my hometown,” Xana lied. She winced, knowing it was a weak one. Linda glared at her, annoyed.
The customer muttered, “Great, an immigrant.” 
Xana growled under her breath, then turned back to the customer with the bagged pastries. “Your order, ma’am.”
“Oh… and a pie,” she added,  “if those are vegetarian.”
“Vegetarian?” Xana asked. “Made of vegetables?”
“Made of plants.” The customer tapped their foot annoyedly.
“All our bread’s got yeast in it,” Xana replied. “That’s a fungus. Fungus is alive and it’s not a plant, so it can’t be vegetarian”
“Don’t be smart. Does the pie have meat in it? Stupid girl.”
Xana banged the desk, then quickly suppressed her anger. “It does, yes. Will that be all ma’am?”
“I suppose it’ll have to be” The customer huffed, taking her bags and walking off.
“What was that, Xana?” Linda snapped. Her arms were crossed.
“I know, she was a handful—”
“I meant your behaviour!” she exclaimed. “You were unenthusiastic, abrasive, rude and slow. I ought to report you to Gary right now…”
Xana was furious. “Me? You— she…” Noticing her voice was raised, she quickly lowered her tone. This was what she was really afraid of. When she’d started at SIGNET, it had been her greatest fear: not fitting in, not being accepted. She’d spent too much of her life as an outcast, and couldn’t bear it anymore.
Her place was with SIGNET, but now she was  here, being belittled, rejected. When she tried to help, she was blamed, as if it was her fault.
Xana felt a hand on her shoulder “It’s five minutes until your break,” Habib told her. “Take it now, I’ll cover for you.”
Too grateful for words, Xana hurried away.

Without thinking, her feet had carried her towards the one person who always seemed to know how to make her feel safe. Evidently, her brain hadn’t kicked into gear along with her legs, as it had failed to remind them that she had gone for her break early, meaning that Charles was still on the shop floor. 
She’d found him busy stocking a shelf. She fought every instinct to launch herself in his direction, and instead backed between two Christmas pudding displays, trying to look as nonchalant as possible while staying mostly hidden. Come on, Xana, you’re just walking, no purpose, totally normal. Just breathe. She took the time to calm her breathing before making her way to the staff canteen. A few minutes later, she returned and tapped him on the arm as inconspicuously as she could, jerking her head for him to follow. Luckily, he got the message — though he was a little hesitant at first — and the pair moved to an unattended aisle.
“Sorry about this, I don’t want to blow our cover.”
Charles inclined his head. “Why risk it at all? Did you find something out?”
Xana shook her head quickly, feeling silly. “No, nothing like that. I just… I needed to talk.”
An uncomfortable silence, and Xana began to regret everything.
What seemed like an age passed, until Charles reached out a consoling hand. “Hey, it’s okay — there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. This is a new and scary situation. I’m sure you’re doing the right thing by coming to me. What do you want to talk about?”
Xana took a deep, steadying breath. “It’s really stupid, now that I say it out loud. I just — I can’t figure this thing out, Charles! This ‘being human’ thing. I had an interaction with a customer, and I know she was the one in the wrong, but I was still made to feel like I was the one being rude! It’s just so… hard. And…”
Charles’ eyebrows curved compassionately. “And I’m making you be here.”
Xana shook her head. “No, no, it’s not that at all. I know why we’re here is important — I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe that. I have to do this, I understand, and I don’t blame you for it being difficult, but that doesn’t mean people are any less cruel.”
Charles smiled at her. “Do you want to know a secret? It’s difficult for me, too.”
And for the remainder of her break, Xana told Charles about her day, about her coworker who wouldn’t stop with the terrible puns, about the awful customers and the even worse manager. She told him about how everything here felt so different, isolating, and just too much. They picked through a half-wilted lettuce from the terrible canteen. It wasn’t anything like what Charles made for her back home, but the time they spent talking meant it didn’t matter. 
“So, I need to ask: vegetarians?”
“Misleadingly named, for sure,” said Charles “They eat anything that isn’t meat — or sometimes, anything that doesn’t come from the death of animals, though that’s more of a vegan thing these days.”
“Vegan?”
Xana’s head was swimming. Even more so as Charles explained more facets of human life than she ever knew existed. Even after a year on Earth, she clearly had a lot more to learn. Perhaps she could pick some of it up from her human coworkers. Even natives had gaps in their general knowledge, Charles assured her, and being an alleged ‘foreigner’ meant she could be excused a few more mistakes than most. Fitting in would be difficult, sure, but she’d done it before and she’d do it again. At least this time she wouldn’t be alone.
For those fifteen minutes, there was no evil threats, no alien invasions, nor  robot uprisings. They were just two friends moaning over a bad job, and the moan made it slightly more bearable.
It was all about perspective, Xana decided: this job had to be done, and it would be done, and when it was she’d be back to doing something she loved.
“It won’t be long,” Charles promised her, “and we’ll get through this together. Whatever it takes.”
Xana nodded. “And I’ll be here if you ever need an extra hand — I’ve got plenty, you know.”
Charles laughed. “Careful; it sounds like your coworker’s rubbing off on you.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Xana remarked, reaching for the door handle as her break drew to a close. “There would be worse things…”

> report: loading
> report begins
> Subject one, Bakery Manager (designation: Linda Hill)
> Subject one has proven repeatedly to be a negative influence on other employees. Frequently and repeatedly disrupting their exceptional work ethic by over-explaining basic concepts or deliberately treating them as if they do not know what they are doing; this could be in order to feel superior, because she does not like the staff or in order to punish them for infractions.
> This behaviour resulted in a reduction in productivity — as the new employee, subject two (designation: Xana), was forced to take her break early due to the emotional distress caused by the actions of Linda Hill.
> Thus subject one is considered to be a liability to Freshfields, and her employment no longer serves any purpose.
> As this is the fourth time this behaviour has been noted, it will be considered to be terminal. Subject one is to be deactivated at the earliest convenience.

“Linda? Is the bakery all finished yet?” Gary called out.
Silence, great… bad enough that he had to stay back to finish everything on time if he wanted to maintain his SPIMS score. But Linda was being less than cooperative as well.
She hated overtime, had to be all but coerced into it. And now she was just being petty.
“You know if you don’t respond I can’t lock up right? You want to stay here even longer?”
Still nothing. Grumbling under his breath, Gary strolled over towards the bakery. “Very funny Linda. Look I just wanna go home, ok…”
Nothing, no sign of her either, and the bakery was still not fully packed away.
Which meant only one thing.
“Oh come on, she left? Really? God I hate her, why does she even work here?” Gary muttered under his breath, heading into the bakery to finish the work. May as well do things properly himself if she wasn’t going to; it’d reflect worse on her SPIMS score than his anyway.
Perhaps she might even drop low enough to get sacked this time. Now that’d be hilarious.
Her purse still sat on the counter, but Gary paid it no mind. She’d just have to come back and get it tomorrow, cause he certainly wasn’t letting her back in tonight.
It wouldn’t be until the next day that he got the news, Linda had been fired. And she didn’t even come back for her purse.


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