Eat That Cookie - A Short Story
This is Stefan. Stefan has one major problem. Stefan can’t stop eating. Every time he walks past the fridge, he has to open it, check if anything has changed in the past fifteen minutes, and then close it. Everything would be fine if he just closed it and walked away to his desk. But Stefan takes something from the fridge almost every time he opens it. He loves chocolate chip cookies, but he doesn’t keep them in a drawer or a kitchen cabinet like most people do. He keeps his cookies in the fridge—he loves his candy cold, particularly the ones with chocolate.
Stefan, like most people these days, works from home. His computer and his Wi-Fi are his source of income. Stefan doesn’t cook. He doesn’t like cooking. He also never learned how to cook. But he doesn’t have to—while his computer is his income source, his phone is his source of food. Every day at six in the morning, a young, indifferent man or woman puts his food outside his door.
His meals provide enough calories to satisfy him until the next day, and yet . . . he can’t go without his cookies in between. His daily routine is as follows: wake up, collect your meal box, eat breakfast, eat a cookie, eat lunch, eat two cookies, eat dinner, eat the remaining cookies, watch a movie, the cookies are gone, so he goes ahead and orders a few bags of paprika-flavored and onion-flavored chips. He tells himself he’ll only eat half the bag and save the rest for the week. He ends up eating all of them. Then he falls asleep and repeats.
Stefan simply can’t go about his day without eating snacks. Because of that, he can’t properly focus on his work. Every time he gets up from his chair, goes to the kitchen, opens the fridge, checks if the light’s still on, closes the door, and returns to his desk, he gets distracted.
Whenever he takes a break, he loses his train of thought. And I’ve heard it can take up to fifteen minutes to regain your focus and fully get back into what you were doing. It doesn’t cost as much if your job is to mindlessly copy and paste stuff. But let me tell you, Stefan does not copy and paste stuff. He has to do some serious calculations and implement solutions you wouldn’t understand, even if you spent a month sitting next to him and taking notes on everything he does. So for him, approximately ten one-minute fridge breaks during his eight-hour work day, plus the fiften minutes it takes him each time to refocus, equals a lot of his time wasted not making any progress and not making Earth a better place for humans to live. And all that sugar and fat isn’t doing his brain any favors either. Or the rest of his body, for that matter.
I don’t want people to live better. We don’t want people to live better. We don’t want them to be healthy and happy. We simply want their species to disappear—we want them gone.
My name is Xevia, and this is my eldest son, Xelion. Together with my husband and twenty one of our children, we live on a small spaceship just between Mars and Jupiter.
My son Xelion loves playing games, and so do all of our children. The ones that are old enough were given different games which my husband works tirelessy on creating and perfecting. My husband is a highly qualified engineer with over seventy years of experience in Signal Processing and Mind Controlling. He’s the brain of this whole operation. I am the supervisor and the Children’s Communication Officer—CCO for short. One of my sons came up with the name, and I immediately loved it. Our children are the creative side of the operation and the operators themselves. Everyone here has an important role to play.
Xelion, the eldest son, is currently playing what I called Eat That Cookie. He keeps humans from focusing on their tasks by planting food-related thoughts in their minds. Instead of doing what they should be doing, their minds are occupied with a series of nagging thoughts Eat something now. Sometimes they try to resist with thoughts like But I’m not hungry. So what my son does is he types in Are you sure you’re not up for a cookie or two? And so that’s what gets sent to their heads. The best part is that they have no idea where these thoughts are coming from, and so far, their technology isn’t able to detect our systems.
The most popular prompts that my son came up with and is using pretty frequently are Open the fridge, Make another cup of coffee, and of course, Eat that cookie—like the name of the game. Works like a charm, every time.
My other son Toby . . . well, his real name is 123-XYZ, but everyone calls him Toby. Why Toby? Well, my son plays this game called The Endless Loop. He comes up with the strangest, most addictive screen pictures possible. Wait, do they call them screen pictures? I think they call it differently. Honey, I forgot, what do they call it?
[husband] “Television.”
No, the other one.
[husband] “Reality shows. They’re watching reality shows on television.”
Right, a reality show, that’s what they call it. Like Xelion, Toby is also planting thoughts inside human brains, so they think the ideas are their own. All of our systems or games, if you will, work like that. In my humble opinion, Toby is getting really good at it. He named himself after the winner of the first show he ever created Do dumb stuff, get paid for it. I know the name isn’t the most creative, but my son was very young back then. Anyway, people loved it. So Toby—the winner, not my son—he ate his grandmother’s ashes in the last episode of the show, and people voted for him to win the main prize. Can you imagine? Oh, the dumbest things humans do for . . . what do they call it?
[husband] “Money. They call it money.”
Right, for money. Thank you, honey.
He’s such a wonderful, smart man. I’m so lucky.
Anyway, where was I? Right, Toby. My son’s last idea was to create a show where celebrities would sit in their homes and watch and comment on other celebrities watching and commenting on ordinary people watching another bunch of ordinary people doing their daily chores with their right leg tied to their right arm with a rope. Brilliant. I saw the first episode—it was hilarious. Just to be clear, I watched it only as a supervisor—to see how the mission was going, not for entertainment. We don’t have time for things like that here. We don’t let ourselves be distracted.
So the show . . . the one my son Toby came up with, it was an instant hit. He learns so quickly, my little Toby. Kids grow so fast, you know. I couldn’t be more proud. Each and every one of them on this ship works very hard to help the mission. Even the little ones. They sit next to their older siblings and learn.
[interviewer] “And what about the other games? Can you share what your other children are working on?”
Of course, I’m glad you asked. The two games I mentioned are our biggest projects so far, my husband is always looking ahead to the next challenge. He barely leaves his room, you know. There are three additional games that are fully developed and actively being played. So there is this one called Trust Me. There is an apparently very important group of humans called politicians. And part of the game is finding the worst candidates possible and plant an idea in their minds, making them think they want to pursue a career in politics. But, to be honest, the bulk of them didn’t need our intervention—they joined before we even marked them as potential best candidates. Besides, some of them are so unhinged that we haven’t dared to touch their brains—we’re worried that if we start meddling, we might accidentally make them reasonable. That would be a shame.
The next game is The Pot Stirrer, and my children love that game. I think, over the years, it could even get bigger than Eat That Cookie or The Endless Loop. You find groups of humans with wildly opposing opinions and plant a thought in their minds, hardwiring them into believing they are never wrong. What happens when each side sets out to prove that the other is wrong—and that only their truth matters?
[interviewer] “I don’t know. What happens?”
They fight. All the time. And after a while, no one even remembers who started it—or what truth they were even defending. They become so obsessed with it that they can’t focus on anything else.
And finally, the last game is called I Can’t Do It. The rules are very simple—every time a human tries to do something useful, we make them think, I can’t do it—it’s too hard. Surprisingly, most quit after a few days. This game is a strong candidate to become the best one, too. What can I say? We are one creative family. Well, that’s it—this has been our focus so far. It’s not much, but everyone has to start somewhere.
[interviewer] “No, no . . . really . . . it’s all very impressive.”
Well, thank you.
[interviewer] “And, Xevia, can you tell us what your biggest dream is?”
My biggest dream? Well, I think we both know the answer. All I want is to raise my children in a safe and a little more spacious environment than this cold and sterile spaceship. I want my family to live on Earth. I mean, of course, not while the other residents of that planet are still there. But I doubt that they’ll be there for long. We’re working on it day and night. We want them out as fast as possible—but without them suspecting anything. We want to do it quietly. My biggest dream is to get rid of these—pardon my language—parasites. Unlike them, we would help Earth thrive, and everyone would live in peace and prosperity. They’ve already shown they don’t deserve to call that place their home. Am I right, honey?
[husband] “Yes, humans are terrible, and they don't deserve to live on Earth.”
Exactly, what my husband just said. They are a terrible species. I wouldn’t let my own children play with their children, or even touch them. Or stand next to them, for that matter. The mere thought of breathing the same air as they do—sorry, I must’ve overheard that phrase in one of the human shows. We don’t actually breathe the air, am I right?
[husband] “Yes, you’re right, honey.”
I wasn’t asking you, dummy.
Sorry.
[husband] “Sorry, honey.”
I’m getting a headache just thinking about sharing space with them. Funny—space. Pun unintended. We are in space after all. All of us. I mean, space . . . is everywhere, right? Okay, this is getting really awkward . . . can we, can we pause for a minute? Can we take a break?
[interviewer] “Cut. You’re doing great. Really, great job. I think we’ve got what we need.”
Oh, thank you. I was so nervous. You know, the cameras, the crew, all of that. It’s really stressful.
[interviewer] “Don’t worry, it’s done now. We won’t be taking up any more of your precious time. After all, you’re on an important mission. Fingers crossed. Or whatever humans say. I might’ve watched one or two episodes of the show your son created. I have to admit, it’s hard to resist sometimes. Good job, I guess. Our whole species is counting on your family. Well, yours—and the thirty-one million eight hundred thousand fifty-nine other families also taking part in this mission.
Yes, we’re really excited to be part of this. Especially my children. Can I . . . can I just ask one question?
[interviewer] “Sure.”
“The XWXW family, you know the ship just next to ours . . . if you leave our ship, turn right, that’s the first ship you’re going to pass by . . . you know which one, right? The ship number is 100345—
[interviewer] “Yes, I do know which one. We were filming there just before we got here.”
Did they . . . I mean, how did she do? Will you include her interview, too?
[interviewer] “No, I don’t think so. Maybe a minute or two just to introduce them. Why do you ask?”
I don’t want to intrude, but I might have an intel regarding the husband—my neighbor’s husband. It’s possible that he—how do I put it—stretched the truth on his resume. He’s not a real engineer.
[interviewer] “That’s very interesting. They keep telling us that their system is so complicated that they aren’t able to show us anything until it’s one hundred percent done. So far, we haven’t seen a thing.”
If you ask me, I’d say they have absolutely no clue what they’re doing. But just to be clear, I’m only mentioning this because I care about the mission. I wouldn’t want any impostors to accidentally end up in the finale and settle on Earth—that would be outrageous.
[interviewer] “Don’t worry. The audience is smart. If they notice something is off, the impostors will be out—and then new contestants will be moving in next to you.”
Of course I wish them well, but the truth, as we all know, has a way of revealing itself.
[interviewer] “Right. Your family . . . your family, on the other hand, is doing really well. You yourself, you’re very charismatic. Keep that energy up, and the audience will be charmed. And then who knows, you might be able to make it to the finale. Good idea with these um . . . games, by the way. Very original. Your family has strong odds of winning. You’re one step closer to becoming a winner in season three of The First Inhabitants of the Next Aileen Planet.”
We’re so grateful for this opportunity and will give everything we’ve got.
[interviewer] “Glad to hear it. Now, why don’t you gather your family and stand in the middle of the room? We’ll just take a few pictures, okay?”
Of course.
“Okay, one, two, three . . . eleven . . . nineteen, twenty, and twenty-one . . . perfect! The kids can stand here, the husband here, Toby, you can sit in the middle if you like. Xevia, let’s try here. Beautiful. Now, on the count of three, you say earth invasion and then smile and wave to the camera, okay? Ready? One, two, three . . .”
[everyone] “Earth invasion!”