The Exterminator
This story (written in 2015) was an assignment for my college creative writing class. Enjoy!
I'm an exterminator.
It's what I do. I know it's not the most glamorous job in the universe. Hell, I'd say it might be one of the least. But it pays the bills, it's not too stressful, and it always gets me back home in time for dinner. It's not much of a conversation piece. When you tell folks you're in the pest control business, their eyes tend to glaze over. They'll respond with something like "Oh, that's nice" or "You don't say!" It's usually not too sincere. Most people save their real excitement for movie stars, soldiers, engineers - things like that. But I don't mind. I'm not under the delusion that my job is particularly glamourous - most jobs aren't.
That's not to say I don't take pride in my profession. I do good work and I provide a valuable service to society. Like I said, most folks wouldn't think twice about what I do day in and day out. But as soon as they get an infestation on their hands, you'd think I was some sort of deity. I get to be the one who swoops in on my shining craft, descending from above and liberating decent people from the army of creepy-crawlies. Yes, indeed. It's good work that I do. I take pride in that.
Take today, for instance. I'm out in some remote, backwater area. Some rich business entity purchased a huge zone of property to use as a private vacation spot. And like any self-respecting billionaire would, he desires his new holdings to be clean and pest-free. That's where I come in.
The little display on my dashboard pipes up.
"You have reached your destination," it announces in a sing-song way.
I apply the brakes, slowing my vehicle down. This must be the place. It's got to be. From what I can see, it actually does look pretty nice - I can understand why someone would pay big bucks for it. It's spacious and it's got a sweet little charm to it. True, it's a bit run-down. The place has definitely seen better days. But it's not too bad; with a little bit of elbow grease and a good helping of TLC, I think it could be gorgeous.
I get to work right away. It becomes immediately obvious that the billionaire was right to give me a call - this place has got it pretty bad. Little critters scurry around at my approach, surely sensing danger. Making sure my breathing mask is secure, I begin applying the gas. Years of experience have taught me that gas is the best way to handle big infestations like these. The trick is to make sure you get all of the little buggers. Because if you let just a few of them get away - and trust me, these things are very good at hiding and avoiding - then they'll breed themselves back in no time at all. I take pride in my work. I won't let that happen.
That's why gas is so good. One of the inherent properties of gas it that it expands and spreads to fill the volume around it. Solids don't do that. Liquids don't do it either. Anything I directly spray is killed right there. And anything I don't spray still gets a healthy dose of poison as the gas does what it does best - spread. Gas is an exterminator's best friend. You just open its cage and let it run wild. It does most of the work for you.
These pests are spread out all over the place. There's a few spots where a large number seem to conglomerate - tiny little cities that house millions of pests. Those are easy to take care of. One spray of gas wipes out a whole swath at once. The pests scurry around, burrowing into their little homes. That won't do much for them. Gas spreads. They'll succumb eventually. They always do in the end. I do good work.
I've always wondered what pests think when they see you coming. Do they look up at me, high up above them and think me some kind of wrathful god? Do they know that the end is coming for them? I know that's kind of a sadistic thing to think about, but it does cross my mind. I mean, it's not that I like killing. I wouldn't lay a finger on most creatures. But these are pests. They're different. People love their housepets. They love going to the zoo to see exotic entities from far-off places. Nobody loves pests. That's why they're called pests. And that's why people like me do the things that we do.
I spend the next hour doing a thorough sweep. I make sure to get every nook and cranny. These buggers are in deep. But eventually, I get them all - and any that might have escaped me will be done for soon enough too. I give myself a little pat on the back. Another job well done. The place doesn't look too much different. Still a bit run-down. But it's now infestation-free, and that's a big step in the right direction. Sometimes it's the things that go unnoticed that make all the difference.
I pack up my equipment, removing my mask as I do. I refill the gas tanks and begin filling out the post-job summary form. Paperwork is by far the most boring aspect of the job.
I fill out the "LOCATION" section of the form. Earth. That's a funny name for a planet. I look out the window, seeing the pale blue orb outside. E-A-R-T-H. I pronounce it slowly, feeling each syllable wash over my tongue. Yes, it is a very silly name. But either way, I can't deny that it's a nice place. It will make a top-notch vacation spot for a billionaire - especially now that it's sterile and clean. Seeing the planet fills my heart with the sort of pride that one feels after a job well done.
I finish filling out the form and consult the display on my dashboard. My next assignment is on Halcion Prime in the Vega Nebula System. Fastening my seatbelt securely, I flip the switch for the warp drive and feel the antimatter engines rumble beneath me. I stomp on the floor pedal, zooming away and leaving Earth far behind. Halcion Prime is only a fifteen minute drive from here. After cleaning up there, I can head home. I'll be back in time for dinner. Just like I always am. Until then, I need to focus on the work at hand. I want to make sure I do a good job.
It's what I do. I'm an exterminator.