Chapter one
Earth was invaded twenty-eight days ago. I think it is most unfair that I still have to go to work. And judging by the eerie emptiness of London’s streets, most people’s employers agree with me. But not mine, no, never mine. My shitty bosses have insisted we all come in.
As if anyone is going to be thinking about getting their car insurance renewal quotes at a time like this.
I sigh heavily and pull the strap of my messenger bag higher up my shoulder, and pick up the pace of my walking. Since I have to go to work, as ludicrous as that is, there is no point in being late.
I’m almost missing the early days of the invasion when everyone cowered at home with their eyes fixed on their phone screens for the constant news reporting. I didn’t leave my blanket fort for days.
But I guess it is now clear that the aliens are not going to massacre everyone. They are not even going to change much. They literally said in a speech outside the White House, ‘Carry on, as you were.’
Sucks for presidents, prime ministers and kings. But for us ordinary people, they’ve said nothing much is going to change. Of course, that’s if the invaders do as they say.
I shiver and pull my coat tighter, even though it’s not the grey British weather that is chilling my blood. It’s everything else. It’s being back in interesting and unprecedented times. I thought the pandemic was going to be it for my lifetime. But nope. More shit. More drama. Fuck my life.
I turn the last corner of my commute and now I can see the soulless square glass office block of my workplace. A strange warmth floods me. Damn it. Don’t tell me that the sight of this shithole is comforting. I’m not that guy. I work to live, not live to work. Car Insurance Call Handler is not part of my identity.
Unlike Steve. Who is now waving at me from just outside the revolving doors.
More warmth flows through me and I feel tension leave my shoulders. I bite back my groan of dismay. I cannot be happy to see this idiot. It would take more than an alien invasion to make me like Mr corporate ass-licker.
“Hi Steve!” I say with false cheer.
He grins back at me. “Have you heard the news?”
I feel my eyebrows rise. What kind of a question is that? I, like everyone else in the world, have heard an awful lot of news in the past twenty-eight days. Nothing but news. Sometimes for over twenty-four hours straight.
“The fey have deposed all CEOs of all big companies! We have a fey boss now!”
Well, that can’t be good. Great. Just great. I can feel a panic attack coming on.
Okay, take a deep breath. When was the last time I saw the CEO? Never. And there is no reason for that to change. Mighty CEOs of multinational companies do not talk to lowly call handlers. It’s fine.
“Wow,” I say to Steve, because honestly, what else is there to say?
We go through the revolving doors and head towards the lifts. Mike, the security guy, is at his desk and he gives us his usual nod of greeting. And I’m fine with that making me happy.
“Maybe we will finally get that raise!” says Steve as he bumps my shoulder.
My eyes roll and I let out a weak chuckle. God. Four weeks alone, and I’ve forgotten how much hard work socialising is. It’s so hard not to scream at Steve in his perfectly ironed pale blue shirt. He has to have seen the footage of the fey. Eerily beautiful. Haughty. Cold. Otherworldly. They move with predatory grace and have cruelty in their cat-slitted eyes.
I really don’t think a pay rise is on the agenda. We will be lucky if they don’t make us work for free, dress in rags and eat slops.
But they said, ‘carry on.’ And so here we are.
The lift spits us out onto the sixth floor. Familiar sights, scents and sounds wash over me. Plastic plants. Strip lights. Acres of grey carpet. Shirley’s tuna sandwich. Stale coffee and broken dreams.
It is as if I never left. Twenty-eight days and the world has changed, but this shit hole remains the same. It is depressingly comforting.
It’s a lot less busy than usual. It seems half the team have more backbone than me, and have refused to come in.
My eyes flick to the control board. No calls waiting. First time I’ve ever seen the board like that. Management really are dickheads to make us come in.
Oh well, with half the team being rebellious, at least my favourite desk by the window is free. I hurry over to it before Steve decides to nab it. I dump my bag on the swivel chair and try not to groan as Steve makes himself at home at the desk next to me. It’s fine. It is going to be a quiet shift. Talking to Steve is going to be better than talking to no one.
I get settled, pop my headset on and login at the exact time my shift starts. Yes! Martin will be so pissed. He hates that, but there is nothing he can technically do about it. Besides, golden boy Steve has only just signed in too. He must be more rattled by current events than he is letting on.
“Did you hear they have made Buckingham Palace their British headquarters?” says Steve.
