A bright and colorful, deco-era building stood strong, as though it were an oasis amongst an industrial wasteland. The Lala Button factory was the only supplier of custom and designer-quality buttons in downtown Los Angeles. It was the oldest button establishment, dating back to the 1930's, family run, and absolutely cut throat in its competitive practices. So much so that, in 1996, when an Ebola outbreak contaminated the up-and-coming Fasten-Tech Industries, the competitor met ruin. Since the outbreak affected none outside the factory, whispered rumors of Lala's supposed involvement ran amok, without ever gaining proof or basis. It was the quietest, yet most impactful rumor to ever rock the Button Industry of downtown LA.
It was in this quaint-looking, artificial-sweetener colored environment, where Veda met the Cookie Ashat on her first day of work as a Product Development Associate. A recent graduate of FIDM with a degree in Toy Design, Veda was elated she would have the chance to gain experience in her field, even if it was somewhat outside the genre of employment she'd originally hoped for. She was creating, developing, manufacturing, compensated and grateful.
On her first day of work, an HR Rep guided her around the giant room where she would be working. She showed her how to use the office printer, which apparently required special codes that changed every three days, and introduced her to all her new co-workers, starting from the back of the room near the exit, one by one to the end of the room closest to the widows. The last coworker was located in a sectioned off area of the room, like an office whose walls were created by pushing together Ikea bookcases, with one bookcase missing to allow entry from the side, out of view of the rest of the office. The space was big enough to set comfortably, side by side, two large desks facing the window. In this cubby-area was an empty desk, soon to be Veda's, and at the occupied second desk was the first Cookie she'd been ever met.
Veda gasped when they'd walked through the entry and she saw the squat thing with its wavy blue hair shimmering in the sunlight streaming through the window. Ashat didn't stand to greet them, but eyed the smiling Veda wearily as the HR rep made the introductions and explained how they'd be partnering up and sharing the workload. As Veda sat at her desk for the first time, looking in the drawers at the files already there and checking out the system of organization, the alien sat munching on Skittles from a bowl sitting on the desk with a spoon. It was nearly impossible for Veda to mind the angst radiating from across the office because of her excitement.
She'd only ever seen the aliens on the news, and thought they'd seemed really adorable then. She'd thought the creatures resembled a short person who had merged with an Afghan Hound and then showered in Easter egg dye.
Veda, who thought of herself as shy, despite her colorful wardrobe, finally worked up the courage to start a conversation.
"You sure do love your Skittles."
Her first remark was met with icy silence. Ashat's left eye twitched as Veda continued.
"I'm more of a berry kind of girl. Raspberries and strawberries, and blueberries, et cetera. Nature's candy and all. "
Ashat raised an eyebrow, and Veda realized that her attempt at conversations may have made her come across as condescending.
"No judgement intended," she said, "Just my preference."
"I hate fruit," Ashat muttered. "I hate seeds, peels, juices... too messy. It's disgusting. This," holding up a skittles-filled soup spoon, "is cleaner, more dignifying to eat."
"Do all Cookies speak English so well?"
Ashat grunted before responding, "What did you think? That we wouldn't do research before approaching this planet? Earth had been releasing radio waves into space for a hundred years. We followed it like that children's game... what is it... connect the dots. Ah, it was easy. Your language is primitive, quaint, even. We liked some other languages better, but sensed the wars surrounding those areas would not make it an ideal spot to impose upon. California... a land of vegans living amongst slaughter houses. We chose the right land."
He was referring, of course, to a famous Los Angeles slaughterhouse, which was still operational but, coincidentally, the only surrounding restaurants within a 2-3 mile radius were either vegan or vegetarian - a coincidence noticed by the slaughterhouse workers or the bulk of the fashion industry which also occupied the same area. The reference went completely over Veda's head, being so new.
Not quite sure how to respond to that, she said, "Well, I'm very glad to have you here."
After a few moments she asked, "What do vegetarians and slaughterhouses have anything to do with Californians? I mean, those are everywhere."
Ashat looked at Veda condescendingly and spoke with disdain, "A society that kills the animals for eating but then doesn't eat the animals. The meat is shipped elsewhere. You are too peaceful to eat the animals, despite knowing how to kill them.You kill them for other people to eat, not for yourselves in the immediate area surrounding the killing. You are passive. Passive people are not harmful."
"Plenty of people eat meat in LA."
"Do you eat meat?"
"Actually, no."
Ashat waved his hand dismissively, "Nor me, and we'll get along fine."
Veda didn't follow the logic, figured something key was lost in translation and decided to change the subject. She gestured at the bookshelves, "Most of these are empty. What's the deal with them sectioning us off like this, I wonder?"
Ashat laughed, "Me. I was sick of being gawked at. Humans stare. It is very discomforting."
"Are you male or female?"
At that Ashat sat up very straight, abruptly and stared down Veda and spat, "You are rude to ask."
"I apologize! You're right, that was insensitive. I'm very sorry."
"Silence," Ashat hissed.
The next six hours were uncomfortably, shamefully silent. The southern sunlight drifted in, throwing painted-glass shadows on everything; filling Veda with conflicting emotions. She felt like a social failure, insulting her new coworker on the first day, but also like she'd won the lottery with the beauty of the place.
At the end of the day, as she stood to leave, Ashat spoke to her again. "How do you feel about spiders?"
"They terrify me."
Ashat squinted, "Do you kill them when you see them?"
Veda shook her head, "If I see one, I try to confine it without injuring it, and then I take it outside, find a place in the garden free of other webs, since they eat each other and all, and let it free."
"It," Ashat nodded as this answer was expected, "Fine, see you tomorrow."
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