Butterflies and Hurricanes

Butterflies. Of various colors and patterns. Flying around in an elastic bag filled with gastric juices. Don't they die of all the gas?

He sat in the lobby of the IT Services company that takes projects mainly from the US of A. He looked around and scanned his surroundings. The walls, the employees. They seemed to have been white-washed recently.  He could still smell the paint. And what was the other smell now? Body odor, his own. He'd forgotten to use the new Axe 'cause he was in such a hurry, in such a rush.

Rush. Adrenaline. Panic.

Don't panic, man. It's just another interview. You've taken so many before. Chill. Relax.

Sweat has a strange way of  making one feel queasy and uncomfortable, therefore worsening the situation from bad to pathetic. His butt made sure it left its imprints on the expensive leather sofa.

Focus, man. Don't let fear grip you. Listen carefully... It's not the end of the world if you don't get the job. But you gotta focus, alright? No, stop looking at the girl. Listen to me. You gotta...

"Mr. Arjun Kothuri, you're next.", announced the assistant in high stilettos.

It's like being woken up rudely from a nightmare, and you don't even remember any of it. You don't remember the reason for your fear; what you really fear is the unknown.

With his heart pounding out of his mouth, he stepped gingerly into the plush office. Three men were seated behind a large mahogany table, all of them looking particularly serious. "Take a seat, Mr. Arjun", one man with a shiny bald pate said.

He sat down, praying that he would survive this ordeal and go home alright.

The three men began to size him up, passing silent judgments and exchanging glances. Nothing is as intimidating as the mysterious calmness of interviewers.

"Tell us about yourself", a graying beard began. Arjun's head began to swim.

Speak up, man! It's just a damned interview. In the grand scheme of things, it does not matter whether you get the job.  The result is not in your hands. Just give it your best, your hundred percent.

My brain's just gone into Krishna-mode, Arjun thought to himself.

"No, no... I think we ought to tell him why he was called here for, in the first place.", the third man, probably the youngest of the lot, said, interrupting the train of thoughts. It went and crashed in the countryside.

The bald head nodded.

"Mr. Arjun Kothuri, you are required for a highly confidential intergalactic mission. Your mission objectives will be made clear to you once you sign this agreement."

"Wait. Inter-what??"

"An intergalactic mission. You are not supposed to disclose the details to anyone in your life, should you choose to accept this offer."

Arjun was back in his thoughts, looking up at the sky near a sea somewhere. A high tide rose. It became bigger as it approached, and then consumed him with inconsummate ease. He was wearing his best watch. Hoped it was water-resistant.

Is this some kind of a joke? How on earth did my life turn into a science fiction thriller from a hopeless tragedy?

"Are you there, Mr. Arjun? Your signature is required here, here and here.", the man with the shiny bald pate said.

The gray beard smiled, almost to himself.

Welcome to the party.