For your enjoyment, I present my Taco Bell Quarterly reject. This story is a Baja Blast-fueled, Speculative homage to that liminal quality of the Taco Bell drive-thru at 2am.
Three Lessons Learned at the Taco Bell at the Edge of the Universe
by B. Zelkovich
Lesson #1: Fast, Friendly Service. Guaranteed.
Ding!
“Welcome to the Taco Bell at the Edge of Universe, where anything’s possible. What can we get for you today?”
Often customers don’t realize these microphones are some of the best in galaxy — at the order box, we can hear everything. And I love it when they argue.
“Ooh, ooh! I want that thing with the cheese and the crunch!”
“There’s like, eighty things that say ‘cheese’ or ‘crunch’.”
“It’s your planet’s food!”
“That doesn’t mean I know—“
A third voice says, “I believe the rodent is referring to the… Cheesy Gordita Crunch Cravings Box.”
“Yeah! That!”
As per my programming, I smile so it will tinge my voice. Fast and Friendly Service is Guaranteed. “I’ve got a Cheesy Gordita Crunch Cravings Box. What else for you?”
“I am Gr—“
“Keep your bark on, bud, he’ll get it.”
“Two Mexican Pizzas, an order of Mexi-Nuggets, and a Chalupa Supreme.”
I repeat the order, that plastic smile locked into place. “And what to drink with these?”
“Baja Blast!” Say three voices.
“I would prefer a Doctoral Pepper.”
A sigh. “It’s Dr. Pepper.”
“Earth’s education system is highly suspect if a pepper can get such an advanced degree.”
“That’s not— you know what? Never mind. Uh…. You there?”
I am always here. “I’m here. It sounds like I have three Baja Blasts and a Dr. Pepper?”
“Yes, please.”
“Awesome! Any sauce with that?”
“Fire!” “Diablo!” “Mild, please.”
My smile is a little more genuine after that. Customers are funnier than they realize. “Assorted sauces, then. I’ll have a total for you at the window!”
I glance at Luke, whose main role is to scoop two tablespoons of not-quite-beef into taco shells for eight hours a day. Corporate insists there must be at least one human in the store at all times, for authenticity. He’s high a lot of the time, though, so I keep an eye on him to make sure orders are correct.
But Luke gets it right, and I pass the bags of food and sauce out of the window. I wave and smile at the ship as it throttles up and zooms off into the stars.
A raccoon and a tree are hardly the weirdest customers we get. The universe is a big place, and it turns out just about everyone likes cheesy, crunchy things.
Ding!
“Welcome to the Taco Bell at the Edge of the Universe, where anything’s possible! What can we get for you today?” It is an automatic response. I hear the bell, I greet customers.
“Uh… Hi. Have we been—“
I recognize that voice. Sad. Mad. Resigned. I lean back to shout at Luke, “It’s the Tempunauts.”
He curses, reaching for a stack of taco shells. “Shit’s fucking depressing, man.”
I agree, and turn back to the customer. “Yes, sir. You have been here before.”
A sigh.
“Would you like your usual?”
He takes a moment, perhaps wondering what that even means. “Sure.”
“One Taco & Burrito Cravings Pack and a Beef Gordita, with Fire Sauce,” I say. My corporate mandated smile is softer. People stuck in time loops destined to die over and over again don’t tend to appreciate the standard saccharine version of customer service. I know, because the Tempunauts are regulars, even if they don’t remember that they are.
Lesson #2: Think Outside the Bun.
If you think too hard about the logistics of running a Taco Bell at the Edge of the Universe, you’ll get a migraine. Or, if you’re unlucky, an aneurism.
This far out, the rules don’t apply. For instance, we have every menu item that has ever existed at any Taco Bell in time and space. Limited Time, Limited Market, it doesn’t matter. You want it, we have it, and we never run out.
Our river of Baja Blast runs endless.
This close to the edge of the universe, the lines between planes gets blurred. Not all of our customers exist in the same reality, which makes for some very interesting conversations at the order box. But apparently the one constant across every universe is Taco Bell.
Time and space are complicated, but getting your Fourth Meal isn’t.
Ding!
“Welcome to the Taco Bell at the Edge of the Universe, where anything’s possible! What can we get for you today?”
“Um, yes, hello—“
A heavy sigh. “What’s the point? Even if it tastes good, it’ll probably give you food poisoning.”
“Well, it’s not for you, is it?”
“Food. Yet another of life’s pleasures I’ll never know. Thank you for reminding me.”
“Oh, for —“
“Magra—!”
“No! For the last time, we are not there yet.” Throat clearing. “Sorry about that. Can we get, um, a Nachos BellGrande meal, with a Baja Blast, a Crunchwrap Supreme, and… three soft taco supremes?”
That programmed smile locks into place again. “Of course. Any sauce?”
“Medium, please.”
“You got it. We’ll see you up here with that total.”
Luke’s playing the radio above the prep station, and out here where space and time overlap, it’s a crapshoot of Terran hits, Binary rock, and whale songs.
It’s a common misconception, but whales aren’t actually Terran. No one knows where they originated from, but almost every planet on every plane has some kind of whale. They’re almost as constant as Taco Bell!
Which is why I’m not surprised to see a whale floating along in the customer’s wake. The potted plant is new though.
Ding!
“Welcome to the Taco Bell at the Edge of the Universe, where anything’s possible! What can we get for you today?”
A burp. “You’re gonna love this place, kid.”
“It’s a Taco Bell?”
“Yeah.”
“In space?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“You brought me to outer space to go to Taco Bell?! We have Taco Bells at home, Grandpa!”
“Well, does the Taco Bell at home still have Enchiritos?! Huh?!”
“Oh my God, enough about Enchiritos!”
The alcoholic grandpa is another regular, although I am not as fond of this one as I am the Tempunauts. “I have one Enchirito? What else can I get for you?”
“Keep your shorts on Bot Boy.”
Behind me, Luke shakes his head. “This guy’s an asshole.”
“The fact that our timeline doesn’t have Enchiritos—“
“Is evidence that we’re in the darkest timeline. I know! You’ve told me.” After the grandson’s outburst, there is a pause.
“Fine. Smartass. Want your usual?”
“Yes, please.”
Another burp. “All right, we’ll have that Enchirito, a Taco Supreme, and two Doritos Locos Tacos. With Diablo Sauce.”
“Perfect! We’ll see you—“ I’m cut off by a rattling engine and rocket exhaust as the customer pulls forward.
Luke reaches for a cardboard box meant for quesadillas. He puts down a tortilla, slaps in meat and onions. Sprinkles cheese and rolls the burrito, frowning. “Man, fuck that guy.” Luke drenches the Enchirito in sauce.
“Lucas, that is not the right container—“
“I know.”
I pause, watching as he moves on to the tacos. Already the cardboard discolors with the weight of the sauce. “You have purposefully chosen the wrong container. In order to make a mess?”
He smirks at me. “He’ll be scrubbing enchilada sauce out of his ship for weeks.”
At the Edge of the Universe, reality might be unfathomable, but the most unpredictable part of my job remains the human element.
Lesson #3: Live Más.
You may be wondering, what do I know about Living Más? I’m just an android, programmed to take orders until the universe expands so far that it eats itself whole, bringing about the end of space, time, and reality as we understand it.
And honestly? That’s a valid question. The answer is, I’m still learning. My existence doesn’t extend beyond this Taco Bell at the Edge of the Universe, where anything can happen.
Well, where anything can happen for you, the customer. For me, it’s always the same.
I can never leave. Not that I really want to. I enjoy taking orders, meeting people from the vast reaches of time and space. I don’t get to talk with them much — we are efficient, and some customers find small talk with a bot disconcerting — but I am fascinated by the snippets of existence I can glean from a two minute interaction. I witness entire relationships and lives in microcosm, as meaty as any Beefy 5-Layer Burrito.
I even enjoy working with Luke. He can be grumpy, or so stoned he forgets to talk for hours at a time, but he also treats me like a person. He stands up for me when my programming won’t let me. Many of the customers find his erratic behavior part of the appeal of our Taco Bell. There’s something just so Terran about a minimum wage employee flexing what little power he has against unkind customers.
They find him charming. And that only makes him resent them even more.
If customers find Luke charming, then to me he is an inspiration. Each day there is something new to learn from him. He dances and sings when certain songs play on the radio. Some days he seems to take pride in the food he prepares, while other days he can barely be bothered to follow the recipes for even the simplest of menu items. But every day he speaks to me as if I am human.
And that makes me happy.
Through Luke, and customers like you, I have learned that not everyone finds their purpose in life — some argue there is no purpose beyond living itself — but I know mine.
I am here to ask you a question. To make you think of all the possibilities encompassed by that Cravings Value Menu in the Stars, and through your answers, learn what it means to Live Más.
So, what can we get for you today?
Ding!
