After ages of ignorance and stagnation, technology was at last making real, significant progress. The world of children seemed different even from that of their parents, to say nothing of earlier generations. Manufactories produced goods with such speed and consistency that the common man could own a version, albeit lesser, of what before only the elite might enjoy. Imaginations were looking ahead to things far beyond that in both time and space, all the way to the stars above.
Then the spaceship landed. Apocalyptic excitement and transcendental panic broke out, both well founded. Had their technology become too threatening, inciting the aliens to eliminate a future threat with the prudence space-faring civilizations must necessarily possess, or had they advanced enough in science and cultural maturity to be welcomed into a great interstellar community?
Ports all along the galactic vessel opened. Gunports? No. From each port, a banner was unrolled, and that banner said, "Now Hiring."
"For menial labor in the space mines for the rest of our short lives?" people wondered, but their worries were anticipated. More banners rolled out.
"Tech positions open. No experience necessary. Must be willing to learn. Must not treat modern technology like magic the way these kids today do, as if they can live their whole lives without repairing anything, which it had better not because nobody knows how. I tell you it didn't used to be like this, we took apart machines in . . ." The banner wasn't able to fit the rest of the sentiment, but the natives understood. Their bosses all said the same thing.
Finis
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