Louis folded his white work clothes on the wooden changing room bench before sliding them carefully into his satchel. Only when he’d swapped his uniform for his leisure clothes - a blue long-sleeve shirt and jeans - did he feel it appropriate to head for the Leisure District.

He stepped outside and took in a deep breath of air - the new Terraforge was working as efficiently as ever. He followed the short path that led from Allen Critchley Memorial Hospital to the Roddenberry Town Hall; the first was considerably larger than the second, although the town hall boasted a much rounder, regal, and silver visage than the mechanical white of the hospital. They were both made more colorful by the perfectly green grass surrounding them everywhere the cement path had ignored.

As Louis passed the town hall, he glanced at the plaque hanging above its broad steps.

‘Though we were once spread across each corner of our birthworld, we now find ourselves neighbors and cousins on this world. Together, we will rise above the tragedies of Earth. Today, Mars becomes us.

‘-Wednesday, Summer the 1st, 2107.’

Louis read it in Councilman Meier’s voice; he could still feel the echo of his booming tone even from the middle of a crowd of three hundred people.

He carried on, circling the path around the town hall until he arrived at its eastern side, where he turned right at a fork, and swiftly arrived in the Leisure District. It was easily the most colorful place on the planet, with bright lights and signs vying for Louis’ attention in every direction. Images of everything from bowling pins to floating silhouettes offered him every kind of evening out, but Louis already knew where he wanted to go.

Two yards into the district and on its right side, Louis found a building with a circular marquee. Scarlet letters curving around it read, Yesteryears - New, Used, and Custom Music on Vinyl, CD, Cassette, and Digital. Louis felt a soothing warmth fall down his spine as he entered to the familiar jingle of the overhanging bell. He felt warmer still at the sight of so many records, all organized neatly, alphabetically by artist, in baskets on several rows of wooden tables. The whole place boasted a gentle burgundy color, like the inside of an old log cabin, made more vibrant by the framed album covers decorating every wall. Louis’ eyes always first fell on the one on the furthest left-hand corner, where a leather-jacketed Billy Joel stood poised to hurl a rock at a house made of glass.

Louis smiled and sighed as he entered. For a moment, he imagined that the door behind him led to the brisk streets of Halifax instead of the colorful Entertainment District of Roddenberry. Perhaps somebody had scooped up a little piece of his home, carried it across the stars, and replanted it here on Mars.

“I was wondering if I’d be seeing my good friend Louis today!”

Louis stopped imagining for a moment so he could accept Tiago’s incoming hug.

“Tiago,” he said softly. Then, louder, “Hello, Tiago.”

“Saved enough lives for one day?” Tiago pulled away, revealing to Louis a gleaming white grin framed in a sleek brown goatee, earnest blue eyes, and a shaggy head of hair. He wore blue jeans and a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled down to his elbows; Louis recognized the attire as one most fitting of a used record shop owner.

“Yes, Tiago,” Louis said with a wide, shy smile.

“And good for you,” Tiago said, patting him on the shoulder with careful enthusiasm. “You deserve a little break. I was actually about to give you a call; your order’s all set to go.”

Louis followed Tiago to the checkout desk in the center of the neat rows of record crates. His heart skipped a beat as Tiago reached beneath the desk, handing him a jewel case sporting a solid blue cover with white text reading, Louis’ Favorites. A tracklist followed; the sequence was exactly as Louis had requested.

“Thank you, Tiago,” Louis said.

“It’s my pleasure, Louis,” Tiago said, shaking his hand. “Always.”

Louis stayed a few minutes longer to browse the shop’s wares. He noticed that the Beatles records were out of order; Let It Be was placed before Revolver. He put them in their proper places.

After that, Louis set off for home. He passed the Town Hall again, this time taking another fork near its front. It carried him to the Residential District; a horseshoe assortment of small houses in all manner of colors. Some of Louis’ neighbors preferred to keep the gray and beige colors their homes came in, but others had painted them with eye-catching patterns. One of Louis’ favorites was Simon’s; he’d painted a sparkling watercolor mural of a seaside at sunset on one side. The sight always warmed Louis’ heart.

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He stopped briefly at the fence of his next-door neighbor’s house. It was painted a cool blue color, but most of its brightness came from its remarkable front yard garden. As Louis approached the fence, he beheld a village of corn stalks, potato leaves, lettuce heads, and carrot stems. They looked fresh enough to eat right out of their soil, but Louis was more drawn to two of the edible village’s furrier residents meeting him at the fence. They leaped up, their front paws resting on the white-painted wood as their tongues came to greet him.

“Hunter, Rosebud!” Louis laughed, stepping back instinctively before stepping forth again to scratch behind the russell terriers’ ears.

“Hey, you boys get a surprise visit from our neighbor nurse,” the dogs’ owner said. Aubrey was a tall, lanky woman with a head of curly, fiery hair and freckles that stood out between her sea blue sun hat and overalls. She had a bright, honest smile that brought Louis warm memories of his mother from when he was much younger.

“Busy day at the office, Lou?”

“Yes, Aubrey,” Louis said, smiling back. “Busy but good,” he borrowed something he remembered his father saying once a long time ago.

“Hey, you still feel like stopping by for brunch on Saturday?” Aubrey asked. “I’ve grown enough to make my famous stew.”

“Yes please, Aubrey. See you Saturday.” He pictured the calendar in his bedroom at home; his hand was already anxious to write the appointment down.

Home at last. He breathed a contented sigh as he entered his front room and set his satchel down on the coffee table. Everything was precisely the way he had left it, from the pillows still aligned with their corners on the couch to the records and DVDs on his shelf in their correct order. The DVDs were listed alphabetically. The records went alphabetically by band name or artist’s surname, then studio albums, then live albums, then compilations, each of them sorted chronologically.

He stepped closer to the record shelf, which stretched tall and wide like a gentle giant offering him a big hug. He eyed the records, ensuring that they were definitely all where they should be. He stepped close enough to make out the signatures on a few spines - Darryl P. and Sue. Even they where right where he wanted them.

It was a simple house; Louis could stand in its center and have the same distance between the television, the music center, the fridge, the stove, and the bedroom and bathroom doors. The place seemed scarcely touched, although Louis had made frequent use of every utility. He’d made sure to clean up after his breakfast in the morning, so of course the kitchen was in pristine condition for dinnertime now.

He wanted spaghetti. He filled a pot with water and set it on the electric stove. In the neighboring cupboard, which held enough packets and cans to last him until Monday’s grocery delivery, he found the spaghetti noodles bound in square paper wrapping. He put them in the boiling water, then put his latest order from Tiago in his music center.

It was the latest model, at least as late as 2090, when Louis last had the chance to visit an Earthbound electronics shop. He still remembered how barren the place had been. The machine could play records, cassettes, CDs, and digital, although he never made much use of the last format. He preferred the gentle, crackling purr of the needle caressing the vinyl; music seemed unfinished without it.

He poured the noodles from pot to strainer to bowl, then sat in the armchair that faced the back window and listened to Billy Joel.

“She can kill with a smile, she can wound with her eyes…”

He didn’t notice his mouth silently singing along.

He knew this song, from the Stranger album, was recorded in New York City in 1977. He knew that he could go to his shelf and find the album if he wanted to be sure; it would be written there above Billy and his band in their Italian restaurant and beside Louis’ great-grandfather’s pen-scrawled name. He wondered if Billy, in New York City in 1977, knew somebody could hear him all the way in Roddenberry in 2095.

“Oh, and she never gives out,

“And she never gives in,

“She just changes her mind…”

He gazed up at the stars outside his window. His father had told him that the stars could line up to make shapes. He could see silhouettes of people dancing through space, acting out a beautiful cosmic ballet.

A shooting star cut through their dance. Louis imagined it as a spotlight shining on the space-faring performers.

Then it grew bright enough to shed red light into his living room. His shadow stretched until it reached towards him across the ceiling.

“And the most she will do is—”

Louis jolted up into his seat as he realized that the shooting star had landed mere yards away from his back door. He clutched his chest as he felt his heart miss a beat. He struggled to decide if it was terror or excitement.

He heard Hunter and Rosebud barking outside. He approached the back door and, with a deep breath, stepped outside. He brought his noodles.

He heard his neighbors gasping and gawking over the barking dogs. The star had landed even closer than he had suspected; he could see the flames billowing up like an intense campfire, making his little corner of Roddenberry glow orange.

Then he saw the pieces of metal twisting out of the flame, like writhing claws reaching for the stars.

“Hold on…” He heard Aubrey say. “What’s that on the ground there?”

Louis looked again; a silhouette lay on the ground.

His mind flashed to three weeks ago. Mr. Cruseau, who lived on the third floor, fumbled his cane while walking to lunch. Louis remembered rushing down the corridor to help him up; he crossed fifteen feet in three seconds.

He stood there afraid for about as long, then dropped his noodles and sprinted to the fire. The heat enveloped him as he scooped up the fallen figure, hoisting their arm over his shoulders just as he’d done for Mr. Cruseau. Only then, crouched in the inferno’s glow, did he see what the figure truly was. His hands clutched thick, brawny flesh wrapped in tough, leathery scales. He found his face inches away from one like that of a sleeping dragon; its fin-like ear scratched Louis’ as he stood up, and its long snout housed a cave of pointed teeth.

Louis strained as he pulled the creature’s immense weight to its taloned, digitigrade feet, then took his first of many labored steps towards Allen Critchley Hospital. He managed five more before a clawed hand seized his shirt’s collar. Its panther-like speed and vice-like strength were enough to make Louis cry out.

“No!” His throat went hoarse. Then, through his nerve-wracked teeth, “I just want to help you!”

His body froze, but he could look at the creature through the side of his gaze. Its eyes had black slits for pupils nestled in a pool of sizzling green. Louis could feel them reaching for him.

The claws fell from his shirt, leaving it with a wound frayed with string.

“Keep going…”

As gruff as the creature’s voice was, Louis expected it to be deeper. He was glad; by now, he was long overdue for some relief.