by A. K. DuBoff
To learn more about CW Lamb’s writing, visit:
www.cw-lamb.com
THE DAY THE EARTH WAS GRADED
by P. Andrew Floyd
- Message from ???
It was a Tuesday when the first of the Graders arrived. I woke up to the news alert vibrating my phone. It announced, in all caps, the giant interstellar ship parked in orbit above Samara. The second didn’t arrive for another hour, which was plenty of time for the internet to explode with Russian-Alien alliance conspiracies. By the end of the day, the Earth was surrounded by twenty hexagonal crafts that must have made our planet look like a soccer ball.
They stayed for two weeks. The two most exciting, scary, and crazy weeks of my life. Of all our lives. No one knew for sure if they departed their ships. Plenty of people claimed to have seen or spoken to a Grader, but nothing verifiable. The ships just sat there in orbit, unmoving, until the day they left. The day they finally sent a message.
The message appeared everywhere. White alien text on a hunter-green background with a vocal track repeating ostensibly what was written over and over again on televisions, radios, and electronic billboards. They even created social media profiles, uploading it to every popular and out-of-style platform you could think of.
There was only one message. But on select social media sites, they also dumped some translation assistance—just enough to confuse the matter further without being truly helpful. Kids’ books, an alphabet with corresponding pictures, a dictionary, poetry, and a few videos of a children’s program starring alien puppets. (No one knew if the puppets resembled the aliens or if they were the equivalent to humans watching Cookie Monster and Elmo.)
Because the Dump was totally in the alien language, it took nearly two years to translate the message. And it took almost six months beyond that to release it to the public while linguists argued over the validity of the translation as well as what it meant.
In the end, they had no choice but to publish what they had. The message said:
“We have studied humanity and judged it a C minus. As a society and people, it is deemed: fine*.”
Apparently, most of the arguing was over the last word, hence the asterisk. Some thought the word ‘fine’ had too positive a connotation and should have been translated as ‘okay’, ‘alright’, or ‘just alright’.
At first, all anyone could talk about was the message itself. Then, people started asking questions. Mostly, “What?” and “Why?”
People formulated all sorts of theories. They argued over them, in person and especially online. Some thought the grade was far too low, that the technological and social leaps we made in such a short amount of time should have given us a much higher score. Others thought it wasn’t low enough. Despite our advances—our greed, oppressions, and ability to let horrible things slide as long as our personal lives weren’t affected—should have failed us immediately. And then there were those who were fine with our grade. They felt average was a perfectly respectable thing to be and to strive for. Needless to say, things remained heated for quite a while.
And they stayed that way until we were given something else to be upset about.
A year and a half after the translation went public, the Coalition was announced. A group of twelve people to represent the different theories about the message, and humanity in general, were chosen to somehow confront the Graders. Twelve people made up of nine white men and three white women.
The internet exploded.
Sure, they represented a majority of the theories on the Message, but how could twelve white people, mostly men, represent all of humanity?
A few months of bad press later, the Coalition was reintroduced. Two of the women and two of the men from the original Coalition remained. A white transwoman was added, as well as an Indian man, a Korean-American woman, a Puerto Rican woman, a Native American man, two black men, and a black woman. (I had my own opinions about that ‘diversity’, but that’s what the so-called ‘experts’ decided was ‘representative’.)
The Coalition met officially for the first time on a Thursday. It was all my husband and I talked about on the way to work. After I dropped him off, it was the only topic on the radio. The local shock-jock leaned conservative, and he spent the rest of my drive blaming the C minus on the liberal agenda while his co-host played inappropriate sound effects to go along with it. (If I ever heard another fart noise, it would be too soon.) I was more than happy to get out of my car when I arrived at the Georgia Poverty Law Center, the non-profit I ran to help low-income Georgians.
Guess how many people were answering their phones when I got inside?
I walked past our reception desk and into the center of the mass of cubicles, all with ringing phones.
“Hey! Non-working individuals!” Everyone spun and glared at me for interrupting their gossip. “Yes, all of you. It’s me, Rachel. Your boss. I know it’s an exciting day. Coalition day! Huzzah!” I pumped my fists sarcastically. “But we still have work to do, so—”
“How do you think they’re gonna do it? Talk to the Graders, I mean?” Patsy yelled from a nearby cubicle.
I rubbed my eyes with my palms. This was going to be even worse than the day the Graders arrived. “Jesus Christ, we’re not gonna get any work done today, are we?”
“Nope,” pretty much everyone replied simultaneously.
Patsy added, “Or tomorrow!”
“Okay, fine. Obviously, they’re going to resurrect ICQ to contact the Graders. Now, can we just try to answer some calls?” A few phones stopped ringing. “Thank you. If you need me, I’m going to be doing some actual work in my office.” I headed toward the rear of the building, playfully batting Patsy on her shoulder as I passed by.
My first client was already waiting on me. I switched to Spanish as I entered by office. “I’m sorry I’m late, Julia. I guess the Coalition is going to make pretty much everything run behind. It’s a really exciting time, huh?”
Julia gave me a blank stare before replying in Spanish. “I am sorry, Miss Wright, but I do not care about the aliens or what they think of us. I just care about my family’s safety.”
I pulled out a pad and paper and got ready to write. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know the severity of the situation. Why don’t you let me know what’s going on.”
“Well, first, I am not here… legally.”
I nodded and tried to show caring in my voice. It’s not that I didn’t care, but after doing this job every day for five years, watching people deal with the worst of humanity, it was increasingly difficult to shove down the jaded and bring out the attentive hope. “A lot of our clients are undocumented. Don’t worry about that, just let me know your story.”
“I came here with my family. I found a job. And then I met a man.” I nodded as she spoke. I had heard this story far too many times. “At first, he was so nice and loving. He gave us a place to live and… well, it’s not important. It turns out he is not a nice man, and I don’t know what to do.”
I finished writing a few more things on my pad. Years ago, I would have made eye contact, but the job had made my eyes heavy. I kept them on my writing. “You can’t stay with him, but if you leave, he may report you.”
“Yes, exactly. If it were just me… but my daughter and my mothe—”
“They’re going to speak!” Patsy exclaimed from down the hall by the cubicles.
I couldn’t help it; the excitement exploded out of me. “Come on! Let’s go check it out!” The look on Julia’s face made me realize the inappropriateness, so I cleared my throat and wiped away my smile. “Sorry.”
“But, Miss Wright…”
I got up from my chair and walked around my desk. “This will only take a minute, and then we’ll get you all taken care of. We deal with people in your exact situation all the time. Come on.”
I led her out to the cubicles, where we gazed up at the TV hanging from the ceiling in the corner. “Do you need me to translate for you?”
“No, I un
derstand. But, Miss Wright…”
“Okay, good. Look, there they are!”
The news station showed the twelve people standing behind a podium. At the microphone was one of the men from the original Coalition, General Thaddeus Hayes. “Good Morning.”
Everyone in the building became quiet. Even the phones stopped ringing.
“I’m General Thaddeus Hayes, and I’m partially responsible for putting together this… Coalition. With me are three people from the Coalition trial run, Dr. Christian Pass, Dr. Karen Pass, and Dr. Suzanne Baker-Grillo.” Pretty much the whole world was familiar with those four. Profiles had been done on them by every news station the moment they announced what they were now apparently calling a ‘trial run’ of the Coalition. The next few days would be the same treatment for the newbies. “Dr. Baker-Grillo will introduce the rest of the team in just a minute, after I explain what this is all about. The rumors are true. We now have the means by which to contact the Graders.”
The room exploded into incomprehensible crosstalk. Everyone yammered on about something—except for Julia, who just appeared impatient. I felt the same way. If we were going to find out what was going on, we’d need quiet. I whistled as loud as I could, and everyone’s attention snapped back to the General.
“—amongst the Dump. It appears to be a... And we’ve double checked this translation?” He looked at Dr. Baker-Grillo, who nodded. “A customer support line. It came with instructions to build a device that appears to be used for instantaneous communication.”
The building was still silent, but I felt the collective gasp. This was big.
“The machine is called an Interocitor, and it connects via a type of network called an Ansible. We’ve built the machine and performed some initial tests. It appears safe and to do what it claims. We plan to use it to contact the Graders today after some final deliberation on how to approach them. In a matter of hours, we can finally put this grade business behind us.”
The room erupted again as Dr. Baker-Grillo began introducing the rest of the Coalition. I started to shush them when Julia tapped my shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Julia,” I told her. “It’s a crazy day. You know, I bet it’s because of people like your ex that the Grade was so low. I’m actually surprised it wasn’t lower.”
“Excuse me, Miss Wright, but I do not care about any grade.” I blinked at her. “My mother and daughter are waiting in the car.”
“You can bring them inside, if you want. They’d be safe in here and they could watch the—”
“No, they do not care, either. We just want some help. Please.”
I nodded and waved her on. “Follow me.” I felt bad about my misstep. Of course she didn’t care. I wasn’t this distractible when I’d first opened the center. But these days, I’d let a random meme take my mind off reality in order to keep my sanity. At least, that’s what I told myself.
I took Julia past a few cubicles where workers and clients alike were peering over the faux walls to watch the introduction of the new and improved Coalition. When I found the cubicle I was looking for, I tapped on the inside of it.
“John, I need you to call around and see where there’s room for Julia and her family.”
John didn’t take his eyes off the television. “Listen, boss.”
I shook my head. “To what?”
“Exactly. Do you hear any phones ringing? All circuits are currently busy. I just tried to make a call out, and it’s fast beeps.”
“Okay, then drive around and find something.”
John glared at me. He did not look happy. “But, I’ll miss the profile on Jodi Kwon!”
“It’ll be on the radio. Go. Now. The poor family’s been waiting in the car. Take care of this and you can have the rest of the day off. I don’t think we’re gonna be getting much done around here today, anyway.”
I turned to Julia and switched back to Spanish. “John will take good care of you and keep you and your family safe. We’ll make any other arrangements needed once the phones come back up.”
“Thank you, Miss Wright. Thank you very much.” Julia took a deep breath then followed John.
As they left, I turned back to the television. Four faces were on the screen. General Thaddeus Hayes, Dr. Karen Pass, Dr. Christian Pass, and Dr. Suzanne Baker-Grillo. Superimposed on the screen were the words, ‘The Conservatives’. The screen cut to the married Doctors, Christian and Karen. Christian began, “We don’t consider ourselves ‘Conservatives’.”
Karen continued, “We’re more Independents, really.”
Christian nodded. “But I guess we side with the Conservatives on this issue.”
“Our score should have been much higher.” Karen scoffed. “A C minus is bull—BLEEP.”
Suzanne Baker-Grillo replaced them on the screen. “No doubt, humanity isn’t perfect. We still have a lot to work out. But look at all we’ve accomplished in recent years, both socially and technologically? Just a century ago, we were virtually in the dark ages. I’m not saying we deserve an A plus, but a C minus? Come on!”
General Hayes appeared in her place. As always, he looked perpetually angry. “Who do these aliens think they are, judging us? We, as a people, have gone through a lot to get to where we are today, and these Graders have no right to assign a value to our progress. We intend to find out exactly where they get off giving us such a score and let them know exactly what we think about it.”
A bumper asking the stations’ viewers to stay tuned for more information on the Coalition flashed on the screen, which led into a commercial for an antidepressant with a screen full of too-small-to-read side effects.
I tore my eyes from the television and plodded to Patsy’s desk. She was sitting with an older couple, who looked as if they hadn’t showered or changed clothes in a few days. I slapped the side of her cubicle a few times. “Hey, Pats.”
She glanced up from her clients. “Yeah, boss?”
“You think the Cons’re gonna screw it up?”
She shook her head. “I dunno... Honestly I think the Mods might do a better job of effing it up. I feel like it’s normal to have an opposite argument, even if it is bonkers or evil, but it takes a special kinda stupid to try and find a compromise between the two.”
“Yeah, you may be right. I think today’s gonna be a bust. Spread the word. Get what you can done, and then we’re taking a half-day. Also, anyone who wants to talk about the Graders can meet at the CNN Center for lunch.”
Pats smiled and saluted. “Will do, boss!”
“What’s this case?” I asked, already knowing the answer from experience.
“Eviction. They can’t afford to pay, but their landlord left a lot of things broken and the lease specifically states that he will fix items ‘in a timely manner’.”
I nodded. “That’s vague, but we’ve worked with worse. Good luck. Phones aren’t working, but do what you can. A lot of these cases may not have any movement until tomorrow, unfortunately.”
I scanned around a few more cubicles. People were actually working. Then, I heard the station jingle that would most likely end the few minutes of productivity. I swept my eyes to the television and, sure enough, there were four new faces with the caption, ‘The Progs’, emblazoned in front of them.
Dr. Carla Combs was up first. “Trans people are still murdered every day just for being who they are. We live in a dark and disturbing world and have a long way yet to go.”
The camera switched to Dr. Milind Desai. “Look, I agree there are a lot of wonderful things in this world, but the grade was for humanity as a whole. There is still genocide and slavery going on as we speak. I just can’t believe with the universe as big as it is that our atrocities are considered average. I just can’t.”
Dr. John Tyson and Dr. Beverly Carson took over the screen. Beverly’s leg tapped in an irritated fashion as John spoke. “Our children are being shot. We turn people away for asking for help.”
Beverly glared at the camera. “You wanna know
why we deserve a lower grade? Look no further than right here. Why do I have to share the camera with him?” She jabbed a thumb toward John.
“Beverly…”
“No, John. It’s a serious question. We aren’t related or married. We aren’t in the same field. Why are we sharing this space? The only thing we have in common is we’re Black.”
John buried his face in his hands.
Beverly leaned into the camera. “Dr. Combs and Desai got to do theirs solo, so why didn’t we? I wonder.”
“I agree, but—”
“No, John. No ‘buts’. They gave us a platform to tell people what we think, so let’s tell them. Who cares about a grade? We know there are issues. So, instead of demanding to speak to the manager, we should: Fix. Our. Problems. You want to know what I think about the grade? Fu—”
The station cut to a bumper and commercial. I stood staring at the screen; trying to process what happened and what it might mean for the Coalition.
“Boss!”
I jumped. “Christ! John! You scared me!”
John grinned. “I noticed.”
I scrunched up my brow. “Where’s the family I gave you?”
John nodded his head in the general direction of the door. “In the van. Can I have the card? I need gas money.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whoever used the van last was supposed to gas it up. Come on, the card’s in my office.”
“Cool.” John hopped after me. “So, I caught the Progs. Dr. Carson really flipped, huh?”
I didn’t disagree. I’m sure she had her reasons, but the Coalition was a big deal for the entire world. You’d think she could have some decorum for a few minutes. To say any of that out loud made me uncomfortable, so I went a different route as we entered my office. “John, I expected better from you. You don’t know what she has to put up with as a woman, and a woman of color at that. Especially in her field. I’m sure she has to fight for her space all the time.”
John swallowed and shuffled his feet back and forth. “Yeah… I guess you’re right.”
