Designers from Downtown
By: Kevin Ren
Gather the Supplies
“Sir... Sir!”
“Brody? What’s up?”
“There’s a signal!”
“Oh, yeah? Where from?”
“Far, far out, general! Deep space!”
“Wait, wait, wait, you don’t mean-”
“Yeah! I’m getting these little- fragments of frequencies, but I can’t tell what they’re-”
“Hold on, kid, hold on! Ronda! Oi, Ronda!”
“General?”
“Priority one! Call your guys over, now!”
Incise the Fabric
“So, it’s not entirely random.”
“Good, good.”
“We ran it through every algorithm we know and came up with one possible key, just one. Now, to get this key, we treated each of the ‘chime’s as a syllable, then translated the varying levels of frequencies into phonetics and-”
“Luther!”
“Okay, what I’m saying is… we did it, we got the message.”
“Son of a bitch, that’s gorgeous! Congratulations, team! I appreciate y’all working your asses off these last couple of weeks.”
Sew the Shoulder Seams
“So, the first group of frequencies translates to: ‘Greetings.’”
“Ahah!”
“The second group says: ‘If there’s anyone out there, we’d love to meet you.”
“Oh shit!”
“Hang on, chief. The last group translates to a series of numbers and letters. ‘PA-99-N2’, we’re not sure what that means-”
“That’s a red giant! From M31!”
“Wait, so is that where they-”
“Yeah! Yeah!”
Sew the Neckline
“It’s out of the question, General, we don’t have the money for this. The tech is there, but our budget’s been cut by-”
“Arnold! I don’t give a fuck about your ‘colonizing Mars’ fantasy or whatever other shitty projects we’re funding. If you don’t recall those people, and get my ship, I’ll expect your resignation!”
“Look, Dan. Have you seen them? Heard them? What makes you think they're real? And if they are, what makes you think they’re pacifists?!”
“Oh, please! The aliens reached out to us! That alone makes this more historic than the fucking moon-landing, Arnold! We gotta do this! If shit goes south, for whatever reason, I’ll take the fall, alright? I promise.”
“But I think we should tell the public, first.”
“Aw, are you insane? It’ll into a joke! We can’t have credibility without evidence, I mean, imagine the frenzy with the fuckin’ media, the politics and shit!”
“Goddammit… fine! But I don’t want my name anywhere near these reports, okay?”
“Yeah, of course! Trust me, my friend.”
“If it leaks, you’re on your own.”
“I know, I know.”
“Alright. Take the Falcon-9.”
“Good! Much appreciated, Arnold. I owe you one.”
“Fuck yeah, you do. Good luck.”
Add the Sleeves
“Kevin, Russell, and Jeremy, you three are the future of our species! The mission I bestow upon your veteran shoulders today will forever alter the course of man’s history! But, before I continue, I need you to sign this NDA, swear on your life and the lives of your friends and family that absolutely nothing leaves this room. Am I understood?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Now, as far back as when we were… bratty little kids messin’ around in middle school science class, we’ve wondered, fantasized, and marveled at the idea of aliens! Beyond the Ridley Scott movies, the survival horror games, the crazy conspiracy theories, and everything scientific contributed by our industry, beyond all of that, is what I’m assigning you three, today. We’ve intercepted a message from deep space, the Andromeda Galaxy, to be exact.”
“Chief, you don’t mean-”
“That’s right, Jeremy. Aliens.”
“No fucking way.”
“Believe it, Russ! You and your buddies are gonna meet them.”
“But.. are you sure, chief? Are they actually real?”
“Of course! You're gonna go greet them with open arms, Kev. I cannot stress the paramountcy of this! You’re facilitating the very beginning of inter-dimensional relations!”
“...”
“Gentlemen, whether you like it or not, you’ve all been reassigned to this mission, which means that for the time being, you’re all under my jurisdiction. You have two months for training and preparations, launch date is July 1st.”
Close the Sides
“How we feelin’, Kev?”
“I’m shittin’ myself.”
“Aw, hell nah! Don’t say that.”
“T-minus 5… 4…”
“Strap-in, dickheads!”
“3…2…”
“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”
“1… Lift-off!”
Hem the Shirt
“Ch ch ch ch?” | “When’d they come in?”
“Ch-ch. Ch ch ch ch ch ch.” | “Monday. This batch took way too long.”
“Ch, ch ch. Ch ch ch Ch-ch.” | “Nah, it’s fine. Give it to Ronny.”
“Ch ch ch-ch-ch, ch?” | “Just the usual, boss?”
“Ch, ch ch-ch ch-ch-ch-ch. Ch ch ch ch ch ch ch ch-ch.” | “Yeah, but express delivery. I need more shirts for the next runway.”
“Ch-ch. Ch ch ch-ch ch ch-ch?” | “Okay. Should I extract their genome?”
“Ch ch-ch. Ch ch ch ch-ch-ch-ch, ch ch ch ch ch ch. Ch ch ch ch, ch ch.” | “Don’t bother. We got their coordinates, so we’ll go back for more. Fresh skin is best, you know.”
“Ch, ch, ch. Ch ch ch.” | “Right, right, right. I’m on it.”