“Pretty typical for a Friday night.” Ross sent the beer on its way.

“Seems mighty busy to me,” insisted another of the trio. Ice cubes clinked in his glass as he raised his drink. “Even for a Friday.”

“It’s a nice hotel,” argued the first. “Maybe we should’ve come in here sooner.”

“Been watching you.” The third member of the group had a soft yet penetrating voice, with more than a hint of a Midwestern accent. Indiana, Ross Ed thought, or maybe Ohio. “You’re

Ross shrugged. “It’s just something I fool around with. Keeps the work from getting boring.”

“No, really.” The man sipped his drink. “Like Matt said, your dummy is interesting. That suit … what’s it made of?”

Before Ross had to invent a reply, the first man interrupted. “Maybe it’s a uniform. Yeah, that’s it.” He pushed slightly forward, leaning over the bar in Jed’s direction. “What’s your rank, soldier?”

“I’ll only be rank if you open this suit,” Ross responded via Jed. “You’d think I stink. Of course, that’s what being dead does for you. Nobody makes a deodorant guaranteed for fifty years.”

The soldiers guffawed. The middle one finally regained control of his voice long enough to observe, “So you’re dead?”

“That’s it,” Jed explained via Ross Ed.

“You look pretty good to me.” Resuming his seat, the first soldier turned back to the bartender. “Come on, where’d you get it? You buy it, or put it together yourself?”

“Bought it. At Geppettos ‘R’ Us.”

More laughter, proving that the soldiers were literate as well as lit. “Does that mean that nose gets longer if it tells a lie?” the second officer wondered.

“That’s a third arm, not a nose,” Ross Ed explained as a roar erupted from the crowd. On the suspended TVs, Texas had just scored. Any Oklahoma fans in the bar had the good sense to keep silent.

“Hey, I got one for you!” The man who interrupted was almost too drunk to stand, but the seated soldiers agreeably made room for him at the bar. “My kids are always asking me this and no matter what answer I give ’em it never seems to satisfy ’em.” When he slugged back beer his head wobbled like a cheap doll in the rear window of an old sedan. “Why is the sky blue?”

“Because it’s sad,” Ross Ed heard himself replying.

Lowering his head slightly, the man goggled at the figure of Jed while his brain struggled to digest this reply. Around him, the three officers struggled to repress their laughter. Then a smile broke out on the questioner’s face and he nodded appreciatively.

“I gotta remember that! The kids’ll love that. ’Because it’s sad.’ That’s great, man!” More than satisfied, he staggered back into the milling crowd.

The third officer had placed his beer on the counter. Now he nudged it with a finger. ‘fat’s a very interesting answer. Why, pray tell, is the sky sad?” He was speaking to Jed but watching Ross Ed.

“Pollution-ache,” came the reply. The soldier pondered this as his two companions turned suddenly to the nearest hanging TV.

“Hey, Steve, you gotta watch this! The Aggies are gonna beat the Okies!”

“Naw,” declared his avid companion with certainty. “Oklaho-ma’s just lay in’ back, playing with ’em.”

“No, man, they’re gonna beat ’em.” He glanced over at the third member of the party. “What do you think, Steve?”

“I haven’t been watching,” his friend replied.

“Aw, man.” In a whisper loud enough to be overheard, the speaker addressed his other companion. “Told you we shouldn’t have brought him.”

“I know, Rich, but Steve spends too much time in quakers as it is. He needs to get out more.”

Steven Suttles ignored both of his colleagues and sometime friends as he waved at the bartender. The big man was there in seconds.

“You want something else, sir?” Ross Ed glanced down at the man’s glass. “You haven’t finished your beer.”

“That’s okay.” Suttles waved absently. “I’m still admiring your prop. Tell me: what planet is he from? Not Mars, surely.” He grinned to show that he meant no harm.

“Of course not, sir.” Ross Ed returned the smile. “Men are from Mars; women are from Venus. Aliens are from Hollywood.”

Suttles rubbed at his forehead. “I’ve seen a lot of sci-fi films. I don’t ever recall seeing anything that looked like this.”

“There are a lot of movies out there, sir. Made-for-cable and direct-to-video as well as the theatrical releases.”

“Fair enough. If you won’t tell me what planet, how about identifying the relevant solar system?”

“Planning a vacation?” Speaking through Jed, Ross Ed heard himself reciting a series of numbers that meant absolutely nothing to him. He must’ve retained more of that twelfth-grade math than he thought.

“Those are the requisite coordinates,” his voice concluded. “Nice place to visit, but you wouldn’t want to live there.”

“Why not?” The exceptionally thoughtful officer took another sip of his beer.

“You know the big feedlot just northwest of town?” Ross Ed told him. “Methane. You wouldn’t want to live on a world that smells like pig shit.”

Suttles considered. “Wouldn’t be so bad if you were a pig.”

“Then you’d have to wear a different uniform,” the alien corpus replied through Ross. Laughter came from those of the bar’s regulars within hearing range.

“Must be a long ways off.” Suttles debated whether to order another brewski. “What about propulsion?”

“Not a problem,” Ross’s voice replied from the vicinity of the body. “You get on your bike and ride, baby, ride.”

The officer grinned. “I didn’t know it was possible to pedal faster than the speed of light.”

“Light doesn’t have any speed,” Ross Ed heard himself saying. “You misperceive the true nature of velocity. It has to do with the rear speed at which everything else is moving. Your beer, for example. What you call the ‘speed of light’ is not only not relevant, it’s an irrelevance. Especially if you’re trying to get someplace. Your kind makes physics much more complex than it actually is. If you’re going to account for actual relative velocity in your travels, it’s better to just go around it.”

Suttles blinked. “Go around it?”

“Sure.” Ross Ed buzzed the kitchen. They were running short on tall glasses. Moving to Jed, he hefted the limp body and began to jiggle it. Arms and legs went flopping in all directions, gangly and unpredictable. “See? Relative velocity of objects in motion is the same, but they’re all circumscribed by the same center.” He shifted the body back and forth, side to side. “The peripherals don’t matter. It’s the center that has to be adjusted relative to everything else. That’s how you avoid the speed of light. You avoid it and it goes past you. In the interim you’ve advanced.” He snugged the corpse back in its alcove. “Nothing to it.”

Those patrons near enough to observe the encounter had giggled readily at the sight of the six flopping alien limbs. Few had paid any attention to Ross Ed’s disquisition.

“Any other mysteries of the universe you need solved?” the dummy seemed to squeak.

“Yeah!” Another customer broke in before Suttles could respond. “How can I get this sweet little gal over here to give me more than a smile and a nod?” He indicated the woman seated across the table from him.

“Better forget it,” the alien voice declared. “It’s the time of the month when she isn’t interested. But she doesn’t want to tell you that because she’s afraid you’ll go running after somebody else.”

The man looked uncertain, then joined those around him in laughter. As for his well-lubricated female companion, she looked sharply in the alien’s direction, then smiled in confusion at Ross Ed.