Gabe

15

Dayshift

The sun rose and everything fell. Pots, pans, boxes of cereal, even the ceramic salt and pepper shakers shaped like kittens that Alexei had received for his 19th birthday from his aunt Thelma. All of these items and more came crashing down on his kitchen floor at exactly 7:01 AM daily. Alexei had purchased a system known as the “Kitchen Alarm Clock” from a SkyMall magazine. It promised a “100% fool proof way to come crashing out of your dreams.” Alexei thought that a crashing joke, regardless of the context, was never a good idea when sitting on an airplane, but he decided to purchase it anyway.

As he had been fired from his previous job in a paper warehouse for his lackluster on-time record, Alexei hopped out of bed, stretched and walked into his kitchen and picked up all of the various food items that had fallen out of his pantry. He quickly microwaved an egg-and-cheese biscuit, hopped into his pickup truck and headed off to work, all the while still in his boxers and white t-shirt. This was protocol at his job, at the small aircraft landing-gear assembly plant where he worked. This policy started when Markus, a former employee who always complained about the remarkably high temperature that was the norm at the factory, was told by the assistant day manager Jane, that the warm temperature was imperative for keeping the fine muscles that were necessary for operating the machinery from cramping. About three weeks after he issued a formal complaint about it, Markus was laid off. As a final “screw you” to the company, he permanently set the thermostat to -12 degrees fahrenheit. Markus had studied the particular thermostat and knew the ins and outs of it better than anyone else at the company, so the temperature stayed there. Employees’ fingers and hands were cramping up more than ever even though they were issued full body thermal suits, which had to be put on and taken off in the parking lot--hence the boxers and t-shirt.

Alexei walked into the factory to his work station and began to work on engraving “Air Koryo” in large Korean characters, along with the words “God Bless Kim Jong-Un”. North Korea had contracted with the factory, as all other manufacturers declined to make parts for North Korea’s dangerously unreliable fleet of aging Soviet jets. Alexei however, had nothing to worry about. He loved working at the plant and had one of the best performance records in the history of the plant. After years of futility, he had finally found his niche. Landing gear spoke to him.

As Alexei began assembling his second landing gear extender, he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Jane’s assistant Tom, who informed Alexei that Jane wanted to see him. He put down put down the assembly he was working on, heaved a sigh and ambled to the office in the back corner of the factory floor. He sat down in the armchair reserved for guests in Jane’s office and was greeted with a big smile from her.
“Hello Alexei,” she said in a soft but calm voice.
“Hello,” he responded, matching her tone.
“You’re probably wondering why I called you in here and don’t worry, you’ve done nothing wrong,” she said.
“Ok, then what’s up?” Alexei asked incredulously.
“I’ve called you in here to let you know that we all think you’re doing a great job,
Kim Jong-Un included.”
There was a brief pause as Alexei blew his nose
“Which is why,” she continued, “you’re getting a paid vacation to Pyongyang and you get to meet the great leader himself!” she said, beaming and exposing a mouth of crooked teeth.

Alexei wasn’t too sure how to feel about this. He had heard the rumors of what a crazy and erratic guy Kim Jong-Un could be, but had also heard that all those rumors were untrue, and he was actually really cool.

After a long pause he asked,“Do I have a choice in going?”
“No,” Jane responded in the exact same cadence as when she told him he was going.
“But you’ll have a great time,” she continued. “He’s a wonderful guy and Pyongyang is beautiful this time of year.”
Alexei looked confused and Jane picked up on it.
“By the way,” she continued, “All that slander you hear about Kim Jong-Un is all bullshit, trust me.”
Alexei sat there very confused. After another uncomfortable pause, Jane said impatiently
“Look you’re getting on a plane to Pyongyang tonight whether you like it or not and that’s final.”

And just like that Alexei was off to North Korea, who coincidentally, had also won the NBA championship that same afternoon, according to Kim Jong-Un.

When Alexei landed in Pyongyang he stepped out of the plane onto the tarmac and saw a black limousine waiting for him. He was quickly ushered in and driven into Pyongyang proper, where he would meet with Kim Jong-Un.

Alexei gazed silently out the window at the city. The silence was intermittently broken when the guide sitting next to him would state a fact about North Korea. About a half hour later they pulled up to Kim Jong-Un’s living quarters, Alexei glanced down at his watch, realizing he had the wrong time, he turned and asked the guide what time it was.

The guide looked at Alexei blankly and said, “North Korea produces the most rice annually of any country.”
“No,” Alexei laughed, “the time, do you know the time?”
“The Juche ideology will prevail and destroy the capitalist swine,” the guide said.

Alexei was about to asked a third time when he was whisked away by a man in a snappy black suit and brought into the building where he went through 4 sets of metal detectors and then finally, arrived into a large colorful room. Sitting in all his glory was Kim Jong-Un himself, tucked into a large luxurious armchair with his bare feet up on a foot stool made of velvet.
“Alex!” yelled Kim Jong-Un in a very deep, hoarse voice and with almost no accent whatsoever.
“Dear Leader!” Alex said back, as they were now within reasonable earshot of one another.
“Your name’s Alex right?” Kim Jong-Un asked. “We get a shitload of people coming
in and out of here everyday. I can’t keep it straight.”
“Actually it’s Alexei,” Alexei said timidly.
“No, your name is Alex now,” said Kim Jong-Un. “We had an Alexei here before and
he was a huge dick so we had to send him off to ‘summer’ camp if you catch my drift,” he scoffed, making air quotes around the word summer.
“Ok that’s fine,” said Alex.
No one had called him Alex in years but if Kim Jong-Un did he wasn’t going to argue.
“Anyways, enough with the small talk,” Kim Jong-Un said. “You must be curious why we
flew you out here.”
“Yes I am,” said Alex, finally relieved that somebody was telling him why.
“You’ve been brought down here to destroy America,” said Kim Jong-Un, looking at Alex who was uneasily laughing.
“I’m not kidding,” said Kim Jong-Un. “I’m sick of America always trying to cramp my style. You know, like, so I don’t feed my people, it’s not their fucking business.” Kim Jong-Un paused to chuckle and clear his throat. “But, I can’t be the culprit for doing it. You do.”

Alex was starting to get scared. Was he really going to be responsible for the destruction of America, the country he’d grown up in? He didn’t want to refuse, or who knows what would happen to him.

Kim Jong-Un continued, “So what’s going to happen is, we're going to say you wandered in here accidentally and and set off the attack. We’ll get it on camera and everything.”
“What will happen to me?” Alex asked, sweat dripping down his forehead.
“Don’t worry about it,” Kim Jong-Un said casually, “we’ll send you off to Russia with a
nice North Korean gift bag and a cool 200 ruble in your pocket. Sound good?”
“Um - well --- I don’t really think...” Alexi was cut off mid sentence.
“Great!” Kim Jong-Un said enthusiastically.
He then barked something in Korean to a man standing in the room.

“Byung will show you to the missile silo,” Kim Jong-Un said. “This is a huge favor Alex, really thanks a ton,”

Alex was about to protest, when Byung hurried him out of the room and down the hall to a gigantic door with large Korean characters roughly spelling out “Danger”. Byung took out a large loop of keys and unlocked the door. There was a long pause. Alex stared at the door handle and slowly turned the knob.