Fife

“Carrot… radishes,” Ruby Alien recites for Alysha down below, perhaps at roughly the same time as the Dr. Mouse-Jeffrey Phillips interaction one floor up but perhaps not. Maybe later in the day. Wait… Dr. Mouse was thinking back there that the shooting day was almost done. So let’s go with the “roughly the same time” framework. The light (Still Life) seems similar, etc.

“Yes, in Space you can play around with combinations, not worry about Earthly standards. And over there, a tomato pepper.” She points to the far array of plants in this particular greenhouse enclosure of the Mars or Mars-like base.

Ruby Alien glances nervously out the window into the surrounding dunes. The nearby big red mushrooms have dissolved into irresolved triangles. “The… fidgety one. He will — return?”

“Yes, don’t worry about him, Ruby my friend. My *alien* friend.”

“*Fellow* — alien,” Ruby corrected in her measured manner. She was slow but certainly not dumb. She knew she was safe — for now — in this airy place in the sky above the Angels airport. She was not lost now except to the ones she was suppose to be.  Alysha had reassured her several times that the nervous policeperson outside was merely a prop, and a buffoonish one at that, ready to shoot his foot off for a certain number of guffaws. “He comes with the territory,” she said. “This airy hill or mount.”

“Cut!” Ronald shouts from the side. “Done for the day!”

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