Juliana pointed at it. “I love your flying saucer population sign. It matches your water tower.”
“We had that custom made to suit our town’s theme. You should have seen the look on the guy’s face when we put in the request.” Diesel—like his father before him—used small businesses, locally if possible or in state if not, to acquire whatever they needed. The metal fab guy a couple of counties over had also created the three-dimensional version of Maxwell hanging off the water tower. Luckily, that Maxwell had stayed put, probably because it was welded securely. It didn’t hurt that it was five stories in the air.
“You should have Maxwell the Martian hanging off the side of it like on the water tower.”
“We tried that years ago, but kids kept snapping it off, leaving only six little fingers on the edge of the sign. We had the metal fab guy make three replacements in a single month before the design was changed to exclude Maxwell.”
“Kids will be kids, I guess.”
“Honestly, adults will be adults, too.” Diesel didn’t think kids had snapped Maxwell off the sign. He suspected tourists. Could have been alien or human. Didn’t matter, as it was the same result. So they added a smaller version of the metal population sign with Maxwell attached to their souvenir inventory for sale and made a nice tidy profit.
“Do you really have almost two thousand people in the town of Alienn? It doesn’t seem that big.”
“Yep. Inside the city limits of Alienn, there’s a good-sized Bauxite mining operation to the west, the truck stop, of course, and the town itself.” He named off all of the themed businesses close to the truck stop. “And we also sell quite a few souvenirs. We have several warehouses out east of town to store inventory to keep up with demand.”
“You have a Maxwell the Martian souvenir demand?”
“He’s the most popular character, but we sell all manner of alien-related merchandise.”
Juliana looked at him with a quizzical expression. “Interesting.”
“In fact, we have quite a healthy online business run out of the warehouses that ships direct to customers.”
The number of residents included the below-ground facilities operating the way station for galactic travelers, but Diesel didn’t add that to the list he rattled off for Juliana, even though about a fourth of the population worked there.
Diesel drove slowly toward the main street, past the Nebula Nail Salon. A sign in the window said, “All galactic travelers welcome!”
“I see the fun continues from the truck stop into town,” she said with a smile as she stared out her window.
“Branded marketing definitely works for us.”For humans and aliens alike.
“This is the courthouse.” He pointed to a brick-and-granite building on the left. She ducked to see out his window.
“Beautiful. Is that where the infamous founder Alienne got her name shortened and never put right?”
“Yep. I’d take you inside, but it’s closed for the weekend.”
“Could we go in there sometime when itisopen?”
“Sure.”
Diesel continued through town until he came to a very old-fashioned building on the right. He slowed to a stop, turned off the engine and pointed out the deserted corner structure, four stories tall and painted a dull red, with a corner porch out front.
“This used to be a speakeasy back during Prohibition.”
“Ooh,” she said, excitedly. “I’ll bet there are lots of old and very interesting stories in there.”
“That’s why I brought you here.”
“Also it keeps the focus off the aliens at the truck stop, right?”
“Yes. You’ve figured out my master plan to keep the puny earthling—that would be you—from discovering our ultimate plans to take over the Earth.” He smiled. “Haven’t I gotten you to believe that Maxwell is the only alien in town yet?”
She shrugged. “Well, you did try to use mind control on me.”
“True. And I may try again.”
“Bring it,” she said with a smile. “So can we get out and look around?”
