The thing that bothered me most in the job interview was how simple the work sounded.
“You look at the data, and if everything’s fine, you type ‘no anomalies’ into the report form. That’s it.”
Kano-san, the interviewer, said it with a smile I couldn’t quite read.
“What if something’s not fine?”
“We’ll be in touch.”
Which seemed to mean: we’re not going to talk about that right now. The hourly rate was good, so I said yes.
The shift ran four hours, late at night. Every thirty seconds, purity readings from some numbered observation point in the Martian mid-latitudes would come in. 82.4%. 82.4%. 82.4%. Sometimes 82.5%. Occasionally 82.3%. That was all there was. I’d type “no anomalies” and hit send. I could do it after cram school, finish my homework at the same time. Honestly, not a bad gig.
Three weeks passed. Nothing happened.
On a Wednesday in the fourth week, at 1:22 in the morning, the number on my screen changed.
Where 82.4% should have been, there was ”---”. Then ”---” again thirty seconds later. And again.
I sent Kano-san a message. Read receipt appeared. No reply.
I opened the report form. There was a field with two options: “no anomalies” or “anomaly detected.” Two options — I hadn’t even noticed. Three weeks of hitting the same button will do that to you. So that’s what the other button was for.
I pressed it.
There was a notes field, so I typed: “No data received from station LDA-N-047 since 14:24:31. Possible sensor failure. Equipment restart may be required.” I thought it was a pretty decent write-up, all things considered.
I hit send. The top-right corner of the screen said: Submission received.
A few minutes later, Kano-san replied.
Got it. Understood.
That was all. No “thanks.” No “what’s going on?” No “good work.”
But in the morning, an email arrived.
Subject: Regarding termination of part-time contract.
“While we acknowledge the anomaly notation submitted via the report form, please be advised that the scope of this role is limited to confirming and submitting ‘no anomalies’ reports. Detailed description of data conditions falls outside the defined responsibilities of this position. In light of this incident, we are terminating your contract effective immediately.”
So that’s why the pay was good.
Somewhere out there, Mars ice data is still arriving every thirty seconds, going to someone. Someone who isn’t me, typing “82.4%, no anomalies.” And if ”---” shows up — they’ll probably just close the window and call it a night.
That’s been deemed acceptable, apparently.
Space research is a strange thing.
Related: Mars Ice Is Purer Than We Thought