Moonlighter
by Michael Thomas
Today started like any other cliché day. I showered, ate breakfast, and went to work. A certain chill
crept around the meeting room; the meeting was brief. The boss paired each of us with females. It was part
of the new program of integrating species from different worlds. Sounded more like the higher ups had
affirmative action on their mind. I was excited because my partner was beautiful. She had a quiet aura, but a
voice that demanded attention in the room, and a glare that would freeze any man. I introduced myself, and
she told me her name--one I will never forget. Danica Moonlighter.
“Say Martin, what exactly do we do here in this museum?” I practice, as to not look stupid in front
of her. “We’re tour guides. Every mega-cycle or so we get tourists from Earth or Jupiter. All we do is
explain the exhibits, show them around, and end the tour in the Mess Hall.”
Danica moved closer toward me, rubbing my arms, then got behind me. I’m frozen. I don’t know
exactly what’s going on here...but I’m not complaining. Danica points to a corner of the museum that is
sealed off and grabs my arm, pulling me as though I’m a disobedient child in need of a reminder.
Walking into grand room, I see perfection. A jewel encrusted frame of Saturn is encased in glass.
Even Danica herself would have a run for her money.
What am I doing? The curator will be looking for me soon. I need to leave. Danica looks at me with
those piercing eyes and in the sweetest voice says to me, and I quote:
“Say handsome, why do you only have one antenna? I thought Martians always carried two on
them.”
I explained that I’m only half Martian since my mother is an Earthling. Danica had a small grin on
her face and told me she was from Venus. If I remember correctly though, Venus is only used as a prison.
Pausing to allow the awkwardness to settle in, Danica looks at me with a crooked smile.
“You know it’s true what they say; ‘men are from Mars, but women aren’t.’”
Danica swings her arm and knocks over a vase. The alarm sounds throughout the museum. Red
lights flashing, the alarm is sounding off as though it’s trying to break my eardrum. The curator and several
guards come bursting through the door.
I’m dead. My entire life has led up to me dying like this. The curator pans the room, his gaze falling
on Danica. His face pales, as though he’d seen a ghost. Danica winks at me, then pulls some kind toy from
behind her back and throws it at the curator. What the hell does she have a toy for at a time like this? The
toy springs into the air and explodes, sending the curator and the guards flying toward me. We all hit the
wall, with me receiving most of the blunt force.
“You’re welcome,” I mutter.
I look up and put my hands to my ears. I can’t hear. The curator motions to the guards to open fire
on Danica. A barrage of bullets flies toward Danica. I’m trying to piece together what’s going on, but there
was nothing but silence. The guards stopped shooting. The curator stood, motionless. Nothing could’ve been
more ominous. Suddenly, a flash fills the room. Another shot fired. The curator and the guards have their
guns down and appear as fine as one could.
It was me. I never knew red would make my clothes pop out so much. Who shot me? Was I the
meant target? Peering up to the stain glass windows I never noticed before, rarely do I have to the time to lie
down and admire them, I notice Danica with the frame of Saturn. I imagine she said,
“Listen sugar, I’m sorry you got in the way of things”.
In actuality, she said,
“Don’t be such an easy mark.”
crept around the meeting room; the meeting was brief. The boss paired each of us with females. It was part
of the new program of integrating species from different worlds. Sounded more like the higher ups had
affirmative action on their mind. I was excited because my partner was beautiful. She had a quiet aura, but a
voice that demanded attention in the room, and a glare that would freeze any man. I introduced myself, and
she told me her name--one I will never forget. Danica Moonlighter.
“Say Martin, what exactly do we do here in this museum?” I practice, as to not look stupid in front
of her. “We’re tour guides. Every mega-cycle or so we get tourists from Earth or Jupiter. All we do is
explain the exhibits, show them around, and end the tour in the Mess Hall.”
Danica moved closer toward me, rubbing my arms, then got behind me. I’m frozen. I don’t know
exactly what’s going on here...but I’m not complaining. Danica points to a corner of the museum that is
sealed off and grabs my arm, pulling me as though I’m a disobedient child in need of a reminder.
Walking into grand room, I see perfection. A jewel encrusted frame of Saturn is encased in glass.
Even Danica herself would have a run for her money.
What am I doing? The curator will be looking for me soon. I need to leave. Danica looks at me with
those piercing eyes and in the sweetest voice says to me, and I quote:
“Say handsome, why do you only have one antenna? I thought Martians always carried two on
them.”
I explained that I’m only half Martian since my mother is an Earthling. Danica had a small grin on
her face and told me she was from Venus. If I remember correctly though, Venus is only used as a prison.
Pausing to allow the awkwardness to settle in, Danica looks at me with a crooked smile.
“You know it’s true what they say; ‘men are from Mars, but women aren’t.’”
Danica swings her arm and knocks over a vase. The alarm sounds throughout the museum. Red
lights flashing, the alarm is sounding off as though it’s trying to break my eardrum. The curator and several
guards come bursting through the door.
I’m dead. My entire life has led up to me dying like this. The curator pans the room, his gaze falling
on Danica. His face pales, as though he’d seen a ghost. Danica winks at me, then pulls some kind toy from
behind her back and throws it at the curator. What the hell does she have a toy for at a time like this? The
toy springs into the air and explodes, sending the curator and the guards flying toward me. We all hit the
wall, with me receiving most of the blunt force.
“You’re welcome,” I mutter.
I look up and put my hands to my ears. I can’t hear. The curator motions to the guards to open fire
on Danica. A barrage of bullets flies toward Danica. I’m trying to piece together what’s going on, but there
was nothing but silence. The guards stopped shooting. The curator stood, motionless. Nothing could’ve been
more ominous. Suddenly, a flash fills the room. Another shot fired. The curator and the guards have their
guns down and appear as fine as one could.
It was me. I never knew red would make my clothes pop out so much. Who shot me? Was I the
meant target? Peering up to the stain glass windows I never noticed before, rarely do I have to the time to lie
down and admire them, I notice Danica with the frame of Saturn. I imagine she said,
“Listen sugar, I’m sorry you got in the way of things”.
In actuality, she said,
“Don’t be such an easy mark.”