"Excuse me, what's that?"
The creature's monotonous drone ceased, and its ten pairs of legs scuttled as it turned round to the bag. It hooked a leg through the strap, lifting the bag, and turning back, tossed it so that it landed with a thunk and a jingle at Carrie's feet. Inside the open bag were strange devices, some of which blinked with tiny electronic lights.
"This is a Transgalactic Intercultural Community Crisis Liaison Officer's toolbox."
"Toolbox?"
"Disguised as a portable Earth receptacle so that it may be carried around at all times in case you are assigned to assist in a transgalactic intercultural community crisis when you are not at home."
Grabbing the handbag in both hands, Carrie lifted it to eye level and gazed at it. The material was thick and expensive and the design was finely stitched. "It's beautiful. What is it, Louis Vuitton, Dior, Ralph Lauren?" If only she were not dreaming.
The creature clicked, seemingly unsure what to answer.
"So," said Carrie, "if I do this transgalactic liaison thingy, I get to keep the bag?" There was no harm in asking. She began to hope, crazily, this was not a dream after all.
"The bag's contents are indispensable to the performance of your duties in the role—"
"I'll do it."
"But the interview is not yet concluded."
"I know, but I really need to..." She crossed her legs and riffled through the strange implements inside the bag. "Anyway, you know, I'd be really good at...whatever it was you were talking about. And...wait a minute, shouldn't there be a screwdriver thingy?"
"I am unfamiliar with the English vocabulary item, screwdriverthingy."
"It opens and locks things. Turns stuff on and off. Does whatever you need it for, really."
"There is an articulated transmitting infrared—"
"Never mind. If I can have the bag, I'll do it." The creature's inner jaws were paused open. "Or," continued Carrie, waggling a finger, "I might have to have a word with your superiors."
The bug's jaws clicked shut. "You also need a uniform."
"Uniform? Oh, you mean like a costume? Cool." Carrie imagined herself in something black, with a mask and a cape; a long, flowing cape that billowed out behind her as she flew— "What are they?"
A section of wall had opened behind the bug, revealing a long rack of fluorescent orange jumpsuits ranging from toddler size to what looked like collapsed parachutes. "These are Transgalactic Intercultural Community Crisis Liaison Officer uniforms."
"But they're, they're...Why are they that horrible colour?"
"Transgalactic Intercultural Community Crisis Liaison Officers—"
"Don't you have a shorter way of saying that?"