Daylight was fading fast. Always does when the sun drops into the desert. Neon power took its place and did so as if it had something to prove. In a matter of seconds staggering amounts of wattage had Toss Vague-Ass erupt in a controlled explosion of pulsating brightness, beating to death the very concept of night.
At the neon storm's epicenter was the Grand Galactica, like a station within a station. Zana and Rivqua left the hotel's huge driveway and hit the Strip, strolling north. What had caught their eye was an old-fashioned flying saucer floating in the air a short bit up the main street.
It had the shape of a hamburger. Floodlight beams circled the unpolished hull and all in all its promise seemed to match the modest rattle of coins in Rivqua's pocket.
A self-propelled billboard rolled past them, wheels squeaking, loudspeakers booming.
"There's us!" said Zana, pointing. The Blonde Plutoz flyer stood out fresh over the torn layers of older entertainment ads. The girls jogged alongside for a closer look.
"What the-!?"
Someone had drawn moustaches on their faces and space helmets around their heads.
"And there it is," said Rivqua. "Highest on the intergalactic artists' list of good-to-know facts."
Zana quoted it. "You can please some of the aliens all of the time, you can please all the aliens some of the time, but you can't please all of the aliens all of the time."
The girls slowed to a walk again. The billboard continued up the boulevard, squeaking and creaking, thumping out the radio station that sponsored it.
Rivqua said, "It's an act of 'involuntary subconscious appreciation'. Ask any entertainment shrink."
Zana was about to say something funny, when a quick burst of police siren right behind them made them both jump.
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