The last day on site was always a tense one. Even though the house was done, it still had to pass Mr. Hayes' last inspection. Just because there shouldn't be anything needed, didn't mean something hadn't gone wrong.
It was easier to build a house than repair what needed to be fixed. At least, that's what I'd been told. The only one me and Zack have worked for in construction is Mr. Hayes, unlike Willie, which means we've been fortunate.
His prior experience was with a foreman who wanted to be friends with his crew, rather than their boss. It led to laziness that cost time in mistakes made that could've been avoided.
Outside my house, the press is waiting with shouts. I think it's a good sign. There shouldn't be any federal agents, at least none I can spot.
There weren't any American agents hidden among the press. It was possible foreign agents were there. There were rumors that came out later that never quite died down. But no idea if they were true.
Just like the previous day, I ignored them. Silence waits in my car along with the weather station.
Two days in a row of listening to nothing else while I drive came from me not wanting to hear anything about aliens. A few minutes before changing to something Christian was the norm. Regardless of what's on, it doesn't stop me from praying while making my way to the same diner.
It was my stubbornness that kept me from wondering why God sent them to Earth. Rather than praying to be a humble servant, I prayed for Willie, and good weather, which means it was a mostly selfish prayer.
The short drive gives me a bit of peace, before reaching the same diner we always stop. There's something comforting about the three of us going to the same place, almost every morning.
Willie was just pulling in, leaving a space for me to park between his car, and Zack's. The good thing about being early is there's no problem with parking or getting service. We haven't gotten into a position of rushing to eat to get to work.
I get out and hear the news vans driving close. Willie waits for me and holds the door open to bring pleasantly familiar scents.
Entering, we find the TV's off for a second day. It seems like I'm not the only one keeping my mind off the ships in orbit. In a strange way, except for the press, everyone I've come across is treating the aliens like they aren't there.
For much of the world, that was the case. Two sentient species with unknown intent was a bit difficult for most to grasp.
I used to wonder if most people would've reacted differently to one alien showing up, rather than two. After a lot of prayer, and contemplation, I don't think we would've. But don't have an answer for something that never happened.
Sitting with friends at the booth, we talked like we always had. Zack occasionally looked up to ponder something. His eyes never drifted for long. It was never a long process to gather what he needed, before saying something.
Zack was the only one of us who sensed something was happening, before they announced themselves. He was having just as hard a time as we were. Though, he just never told us until years later, I believed something was off without bringing it up.
I didn't know what was off with him then. Just that there was something. I was afraid their arrival challenged his faith. If his was shaken, what chance did I have?
Had my mind been focused on the right things, I would've asked. If for no other reason than he was my friend.
The truth was, Zack hadn't had anything shaken. His faith was as strong as it always was. He knew God had a role for him with no idea what it was. That was the reason he came across as being off.
When God called us to do something, there isn't a sneak preview of events to come. Outside prophets, none of us knew what the future held. Even prophets only capture a glimpse of things.
Just because God was calling, didn't make us prophets.
Driving to the site after a normal breakfast, despite the media vans outside, made for a pleasant start to the day.
The weather's clear, and job should be done. There's no guarantee the house is ready. But it's close to certain with Mr. Hayes record.
No calls come from the moment I leave to the moment I reach my employer. It's a normal day.
Whatever's happening in space was being handled by governments. For everyone else, life went on.
Mr. Hayes gives his typical scowl to everyone. I've never seen him smile. The lines on his tanned face don't give the appearance he does.
I prayed for him to find some peace in his life every day from the moment we met at an interview. Anyone who's that unhappy can't have peace. Without having peace within, he can't find God.
He starts his check of our work while we wait. His sunglasses show everything within and without. If anything's off, he'll know. And I've learned his face reveals nothing.
It'll most likely result in a day of breaking the printers down and putting them in the truck.
Mr. Hayes looks at us without taking off his sunglasses. "Break them down."
He's not really one to tell us we did a good job, and we don't need to hear it. Though a smile would be nice.
Me, Willie, and Zack head to the nearest while the other crew moves to the other.
It may seem strange, but I've no idea who the other crew is, other than their faces. We've all been working for Mr. Hayes, without so much as an introduction from them, or us, by Willie.
There's friction between them, and Willie, which he never told us about. Whatever the cause, the three are always grouped together to talk in whispers away from us.
Breaking down the printers doesn't take long nor is particularly laborious. But there's some satisfaction from a completed work, and knowledge another house waits.
The only real problem is no time to talk to Willie about God. Waiting for molds to dry gives us the time to talk about all sorts of things.
Mr. Hayes hasn't told us where the next site will be. We'll find out, sometime tomorrow when and where. He doesn't finalize any new job, until the current one's finished.
He could've expanded and hired more people to work at other sites. But don't think he wanted to give up control. It's not something that's ever been said, so it's a guess. He just strikes me as the controlling type.
It's led to delays between jobs. But at least it's a good job. I'm thankful to God for that, every day.
The work lasts a few hours, before the printers and plastic loaded, without securing the back of the truck. One last check of the site just in case something was missed. It isn't a search solely for plastic, but all tools that could have been misplaced in, and out of the home.
None of us worry about the lack of work to fill the paycheck. Finishing early brings a nice bonus from Mr. Hayes, which is what happened.
One of the workers from the other crew secures the van, after everything's been checked. Nothing remains that shouldn't be there.
Now that we're off the clock, we're a bit freer to talk. It's not about God, since we don't have that much time to leave the property. It's about eating in town, or the city.
With the press vans that don't want to give up, we thought it best to head for the city. I can't imagine they're happy with what happened.
Driving with the weather station on, for no other reason than it keeps my mind on more pleasant things, it strikes me that I haven't seen a new drone since Deputy Barlow shut them down.
Why am I avoiding the Christian stations? I should be listening to something to strengthen me. Does it have to do with actually seeing the ships? Can't be, can it? There has to be something more.
I know the reason. I just hadn't accepted it, until that moment. I'm worried about what they'll do.
From what little I've experienced, they're both hostile to each other. How hostile are they? Hostile enough to fire on the planet, if one lands? If they do, can we defend ourselves against either?
There are too many unanswered questions that only God, and those sentient species, have the answer to.
That's the reason I've been avoiding turning the station. Weather's safe.
Had I changed the station to get Christian views, I would've gotten competing answers as to why they were really there. I still should've listened to something far more geared to spiritual things, rather than what was safe.
It wasn't the ignoring of some new, or old feather I was doing. But avoiding focusing on God, and Jesus. Feathers aren't needed to know it's the right thing to do.
Driving home, where I was going to spend the rest of the day in Bible study, and prayer, I knew the media circus was waiting.
As far as I knew, nothing changed with the aliens. It gave the media nothing new to take their focus off those who were at the site. That had to change, eventually. And I prayed something happened to make the press go away.
That prayer didn't move events along. It was already timed by God.