How was I supposed to know that it would explode? I mean sure, working in a nuclear fusion facility was dangerous and all, but the endless safety procedures and signs assuring us that, ‘You are never safer than in a NukeTech Research Station!’ kind of lulled me into a pretty strong sense of security. It had all started this morning. I walked in, as normal, clocked in, greeted Pam the receptionist, as normal, and went to my post to start the day. All I did was pull a lever. I didn’t press the rods into their cooling chambers or change the containment spheres out for new ones. Robots did all of that. All I did was pull the lever to get them started. Of course, that’s not what I told people at parties. But it’s the truth. In any case, I pulled my lever today, exactly the same as I did every day. And for a while it seemed like everything was fine. There were no sirens, no screams. Everything looked completely normal. So, I went to lunch feeling safe. And that’s when things went very, very wrong.
I pulled my instant noodles out of the fridge, same as every Wednesday, and put them in the microwave to heat. I turned away and started to watch the facility churn. It really seemed to be a machine, and in many instances it pretty much was. We didn’t let humans do any of the dangerous stuff anymore; HR said our fleshy bodies were ‘high risk’ for radiation poisoning. The robots did all of that now. The hum of work and the clattering of metal against concrete was, in a way, soothing. Maybe it was just because the sounds of the facility were so familiar.  I felt myself start to drift to sleep, and I checked my watch. They wouldn’t notice if I didn’t pull my lever for a couple minutes; the robots did it all automatically, after all. I set my alarm and allowed my eyes to droop closed. They would be fine without me for a couple of minutes. But then I felt a sudden jolt that ripped me from my sleep. There was an alarm blaring from somewhere behind me, and all at once panic tore through my body. I could see smoke curling around me now, and it was filling the break room. It occurred to me that unless I got out of the break room, I would surely be killed. I whipped around and started to bolt out the door when something shocking caught my eye. There, sputtering and spewing smoke, was the microwave, and the fire alarm responded to the smoke accordingly. But worst of all, a charred, boiling black mass covered the interior of the microwave and I realized that what I saw were my noodles, forgotten by me and destroyed by the merciless heat of the microwave. Darn.