‘That would be £14 each, thank you’, the bored quinquagenarian at the ticket counter droned. She tutted with annoyance at the £20 note shoved towards her.
‘You need to give me eight more. That’s twenty-eight Pounds, dear. Oh dear me, what is this?’
She cried with exasperation at the crisp £50 note that was pushed hesitantly over the £20. She looked at the apparent imbeciles whose obvious intent were on frustrating her. She was met by two strange, blank faces. A mother and her son, apparently.
‘Rotten third world tourists’, She mumbled as she gave them their tickets and change. They collected them without any reaction and walked into the National Space Centre. The ticket lady shook her head in disapproval.
Once in, they didn’t pause at the iconic Rocket Tower or the Planetarium but proceeded silently towards section dedicated towards SETI. They were not interested in Big Bang simulation or asteroid/ meteorite samples. Instead, they made a beeline for the display of an Alien head.
They stood there motionless for a while, softly murmuring.
‘Goodbye, dearest. This planet is very unfriendly. It’s unfortunate you met your end here. We won’t be coming back here. Nor will anyone from our world.’