text: u/SAOkirito1's writing prompt: Humanity joins the greater galactic civilization. Turns out earth is a pretty normal planet culturally speaking, but we adamantly refuses to believe that we aren't actually the brutal space orcs of the galaxy “Son of a bitch!” (He didn’t actually say bitch, but this was the closest translation I could manage.) “What is it?” C’laarc used his third arm to point at his screen: the name Johnson was flashing repeatedly. Z@m muttered, “Jesus Christ.” (This is actually not a translation, these were her exact words.) Seconds later, Johnson appeared in the lunch room with them. While most Earth media depicted teleportation as a process that involves glowing lights and synth noises, it turned out that real teleportation had the same amount of flair as copy and pasting something on your computer. “Hi, Johnson,” C’laarc and Z@m said simultaneously, trying to remain cordial despite the small issue of them hating Johnson. Of course if Johnson had learned of his coworkers dislike of him, he would’ve been elated for being proven right. And if they had known this, they would’ve happily obliged and told Johnson to *fuck off*. But since they didn’t know, they settled for only thinking it. “Hello, nice weather we’re having, aren’t we?” Johnson replied, determined to make small talk about the weather, even on a space station. Johnson- like many Earthlings- had two arms, two legs, two eyes, and the ability to piss off any intelligent lifeform he spoke to. It’s not that the Earthlings were a particularly bad bunch. Like any of the planets, their people had their ups and downs. Their ups being art, music, literature, and the internet, and their downs being war, discrimination, poverty, and the internet. To be honest, the only thing that made them unique was their inability to shut up about how unique they were. Johnson sat with his coworkers and sighed. “Have you guys heard? Another war started on my planet yesterday.” “Sorry, Johnson, that’s awful,” C’laarc said. “Yes, but I don’t think anyone should be surprised about it. I mean, it is *Earth* after all. Humanity is doomed to always repeat a cycle of violence. Look at Hitler and Stalin. They both came from my planet. The two evilest men in history.” *My planet was the home to W3122, the destroyer of five different planets, and you don’t see me bringing him up all the damn time*, Z@m wanted to say, but instead she asked, “So, do you have any plans for tomorrow?” “Nothing much. Just going to church with my family. Ha, church! What a laugh. You two must see my people as a bunch of primitive idiots worshiping a fairy tale. No wonder it took so long for aliens to land on Earth.” “Johnson, how many times do we have to tell you this? Your God is real. He’s a powerful being from a higher plane of existence that created your people. I’ve had him over for dinner once!” “Thanks, Z@m, but you don’t have to pretend that you agree with my childish beliefs. I bet you find them as silly as those flat-Earthers running around.” Z@m didn’t think of herself as a racist (she didn’t find out about the concept of race until recently), but at that moment, a part of her was hoping that W3122 would one day end Earth’s one race, the human race.