"Good morning listeners! It is now 6:45 in the a. m. and we have a great line-up to take us to the top of the hour, but first a word from . . ." *CLICK*

Tim pressed the snooze button on his clock radio and settled in for another fifteen minutes of shuteye. He tried to bring back the dream that had been interrupted, but just then his olfactory nerves were hit by the aroma of fresh coffee. He sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed and was putting his feet into his slippers before he opened his eyes. "I guess I'm getting up," he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck and reaching for his robe.

Uncle Martin was up and dressed, sitting at the kitchen table with the morning paper open in front of him. He was maneuvering a jelly-laden knife that hovered over a piece of toast when Tim shuffled in.

"Uh . . . "

"Yes Tim, I got an early start today," Uncle Martin said as the knife settled onto a plate next to the toast.

"I . . ."

"Here's the sports section and – hup! That was your toast that just popped."

"So . . . "

"There's your coffee with cream and one sugar," Uncle Martin said as a cup and saucer skidded to a stop in front of Tim.

"Stop reading my mind Uncle Martin," Tim said as he sat down in his usual place at the table.

"I'm not reading your mind Tim. It's just that you are rather predictable, especially when you first wake up in the morning."

Tim took a sip of coffee and felt the dawn of a new day register as more of his brain cells woke up. "Well, maybe. What are you doing with the classifieds?"

"I'm looking for a job. It's time I started bringing in a little income."

"A job? Uncle Martin, you don't need to work. It doesn't cost much to have you living here with me."

"I know Tim, but the extra money will come in handy for both of us. Besides, I need to be about my business."

"Your business? What business is that? Being a Martian?"

"Since you brought it up, yes. I crashed my ship here but it is my duty to try to return home. I expect to have some expensive parts to buy to repair my ship and I don't want to borrow from you. Why should you have to help me pay for a new triangulating constibulator?"

"That's right. I forgot," Tim said. "You have to work on your ship." Tim felt sad whenever he thought about it. Uncle Martin had only been living there a short while, but in that time, Tim had come to think of him as a trusted friend, an uncle even.

"What will I do when you're gone? When you blast off for Mars?" Tim asked sadly.

Uncle Martin had been scanning the ads, but when he heard Tim's question and the tone in which it was asked, he stopped, lowered the paper and looked at him.

"Tim, I appreciate your kind regard for me. You took me in and you've let me live here all this time."

"I would do the same for any shipwrecked Martian."

"I know you would," Uncle Martin said. "If I get my ship working, I'll be able to return to Mars but I'll still come back here. I did have a position at the Institute of Anthropology on Mars and hopefully they're holding it open for me. We typically get long vacations though, so I could take off work and come to stay here with you for a few weeks at a time."

Tim brightened a bit when he heard that.

"Besides, if you wanted, you could come and visit me," Uncle Martin said.

"That would be nice. I could visit – wait a minute," Tim said, gripping the edge of the table. "I could visit you? On Mars?!"

"Of course. First, I would have to get you cleared through the Bureau of Alien Visitation and you will have to fill out some paperwork when you land. Oh, and I'd need a copy of your auricle certification. That is a document which specifies the dimensions of your outer ear."

"My ear dimensions?"

"Yes, it's like your fingerprints here. It is easy to have plastic surgery to alter the face, but it is very hard to alter the landscape of your outer ear. Any alterations will easily show up and cast suspicions on one's identity." Uncle Martin stood up then came around next to Tim and inspected first one ear and then the other. "You haven't had surgery to alter your ears, have you?"

"No, Uncle Martin. No ear altering."

"Good. Well, that's all settled so let's cook some breakfast."

While Tim poached the eggs, Uncle Martin made a scribbling motion over the bacon in the frying pan. It curled up and browned instantly so Uncle Martin put the bacon on the plates. After breakfast, Tim showered, shaved and was tying his tie in the living room mirror when Uncle Martin came in from the kitchen.

"Tim, can you drop me off downtown?" he asked.

"Sure. Come on Uncle Martin," Tim said grabbing his keys and they left the apartment together.

Uncle Martin asked to be dropped on the corner of West 12th Street and Hanover Avenue then he walked down to Courtman Shoes to inquire about their ad for a shoe salesman. When he talked to the head salesman they seemed to hit it off so Uncle Martin was hired on a trial basis. After a few hours of shadowing and a bit of training on the cash register, he was ready to wait on customers. He worked for most of the afternoon but by closing time, he was let go.

He called Tim from the phone booth at the drug store. "Can you pick me up? I'm at Alvin's Drug."

"I'm just heading out the door. As long as you're there, can you buy a quart of Neapolitan? We can have it over waffles for desert."

When Tim pulled up, Uncle Martin came out holding an insulated bag with the ice cream. On the way home, Uncle Martin told Tim about his day.

"Oh Tim, I underestimated the difficulties of working as a shoe sales clerk. I suppose it started when I decided to engage my mind-reading capabilities to help me give my customers better service. Ohhhh, I've never seen such chaos and confusion exhibited on a telepathic wavelength. People actually came in not knowing what they wanted."

"Really?" Tim asked. He was not surprised but he wanted to encourage Uncle Martin to talk about it.

"Yes, mothers spent forever painfully deliberating over different shoe styles while their children ran all over the store. One four-year-old started to climb the shelves. She got so high that I had to surreptitiously use my levitation powers to get her back down again. One lady came in merely to get off her feet during a full day of shopping. I read her mind and saw that she had no intention of buying any shoes, but she wanted to see everything we had in her size."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk."

"My irritation finally reached a crescendo when a rather large woman insisted that I shoehorn her swollen football bladders into a pair of shoes that were a size and a half too small." Uncle Martin's face was rather flushed now.

"So, what happened then?"

I told her, "Mertjum blit albor tenkop duffin botlup!"

"Let me guess. That's Martian for, 'I don't have to put up with fat feet and an entitled attitude.'"

"Something like that, only you cleaned it up. The owner was very polite, but he invited me to find something more suited to my personality."

"I guess he didn't have to know Martian to see that you were not happy there."

"You're right Tim. They were nice enough to pay me for a half-day's work. I'm going to open a bank account tomorrow then stay downtown and keep looking."

By noon the next day, Uncle Martin was sitting on a bench watching traffic and eating a box of popcorn. He was tired from walking from business to business inquiring about open positions. The popcorn was a cheap version of lunch except that now he was thirsty.

He noticed that across the street, the Museum of Natural History was open and he decided to go in and look for a water fountain. It was cool inside so he walked around awhile then went into the museum gift shop. He was paging through an astronomy book when he overheard a conversation between the cashier and a lady who apparently worked in one of the museum offices.

"Hello Janine, you're buying some gum today?"

"Yes, I'm having a stressful day. I need something Marge."

"Hey, I'm wondering, did Mr. Thomas ever find someone to take over the planetarium presenter's job?"

"No, when Mr. Tyson left his job in the planetarium there was no one trained to take his place. Mr. Thomas told me to call the paper and place an ad."

This information piqued Uncle Martin's interest. He ducked behind a pillar, touched his temples and read Janine's mind to find out the room number of Mr. Thomas' office.

While Janine was still gabbing with the cashier, he went down the hall, found the door and went in. Mr. Thomas was just picking up some paperwork from his secretary's desk. When he saw Uncle Martin he said, "Yes? Can I help you?"

"Indeed you can. And, I most certainly can help you."

Uncle Martin had some good news for Tim when he picked him up in downtown that afternoon. He had been hired at the museum as the new planetarium presenter.

"That's great Uncle Martin. I look forward to hearing about how much you like your new job."

"I hope so Tim. My new boss, Mr. Thomas, told me that they like to capitalize on the 'wow factor.' You know - how all of the planets and stars zip around the universe and do all kinds of showy things, like stars exploding and meteors making huge craters when they crash into planets."

"Well, that sounds exciting," Tim said as he pulled the car into traffic. "It will keep the audience interested, don't you think?"

"I suppose, but I'm going to be thinking about how I can incorporate some valuable information into my presentation. I'm going to emphasize the strides made in the study of astronomy. I could bring in the insights of our brilliant Martian scientists and show people the many planets they have discovered. You Earthers have such limited view of the universe, I mean I could show the . . . ."

"Uncle Martin, I don't think . . ."

"Did you know that there are actually fourteen planets? After Pluto, there's Bimfor, Jalot, Cabrillo and . . ."

"Uncle Martin. You can't do that, now, can you?"

Uncle Martin stopped mid-sentence and sighed. "No, you're right. I suppose I got carried away."

"And if you did try to get away with it, it would only be a matter of time . . ."

"Before they carried me away. I get it Tim."

"Yeah." Tim said, observing Uncle Martin's disappointment. He wanted to keep Uncle Martin talking so he asked, "Fourteen planets you said? Really?"

"Yes Tim, they revolve on a different trajectory to the others because they really are very far away. I've been to a couple. It's hard to refuel for the trip back from Klafornic because there aren't many refueling stations that far out."

"Maybe you can take me to one of them. When you get your ship up and running I mean."

"Yes, maybe," Uncle Martin replied, but then he was quietly thoughtful the rest of the way home.

When they pulled into the driveway Uncle Martin said, "Well, I have a script and some schematics that I have to study. I'll be on the platform for some run throughs tomorrow morning. In the afternoon, I have to give a presentation so the museum staff can see what I've learned."

"Okay, Uncle Martin, I'll call you when supper is ready." Tim said.

About an hour later, they were finishing up supper. Uncle Martin put his hands to his temples and said, "Uh oh. Mrs. Brown is coming up the steps. She wants to tell you something about a repairman checking out your air conditioner. She's also hoping for an opportunity to see me."

"She likes you Uncle Martin. You're a subject of interest to her feminine wiles," Tim said as he got up from the table, walked over to the door and put his hand on the knob. Just as Mrs. Brown lifted her hand to knock, Tim opened the door.

"Oh, Tim! Uh, I was just about to knock."

"Yes, Mrs. Brown, to what do we owe this visit?"

"I stopped by to let you know something . . . hmmm, what was it?"

"Does it have to do with my air conditioner?"

"No, that's not it," she said tapping her chin. "No, it was about that cold box you keep in your window."

"My air conditioner?"

"It has a plug and everything."

"That would probably be my air conditioner."

"Oh! I remember - I'm having a repairman check out your air conditioning unit tomorrow."

"Thank you Mrs. Brown," Tim said. "I'll move my bookcase in the morning so he can get over to the window."

Mrs. Brown leaned into the doorway a bit casting her eyes back and forth hoping to see Martin. When she saw him standing behind Tim she said, "Oh, hello Martin."

"Hello Mrs. Brown."

"Nice day we're having isn't it?"

"Yes, it is a nice day."

"Do you think it might rain tomorrow?"

"Mmm, it might rain."

"Yes. It might," she said clearing her throat. She looked down at the mat in front of the door. "I've always liked this mat."

"Tim got it at the hardware store."

"Yes, I go there too."

There seemed to be nothing more to say and this exchange was painful. Uncle Martin did not want to cause her discomfort but he also didn't want to encourage her interest in him. Then, while she stood there smiling a self-conscious smile, Uncle Martin picked up some interesting thoughts coming from her.

He usually didn't read minds unless it was absolutely necessary. He felt it was intrusive and it was not behavior becoming of a Martian. Nevertheless, these thoughts must have come to him because of the current subject of his planetarium job pressing upon his mental wavelengths. Although Mrs. Brown's mind was flitting a mile a minute in many directions he discovered, amongst the clutter, an interesting quality about her.

However, before Uncle Martin could say anything, Tim spoke up because he could sense the awkwardness in the room. "Well, we won't keep you Mrs. Brown. Thank you for arranging to have my air conditioner checked over," he said as he started to swing the door over to close it.

"Just a minute Tim," Uncle Martin said. "I have a question for Mrs. Brown."

"Uh, you do?" said Tim.

"Yes. I do. Mrs. Brown, I'm wondering, would you tell me something about when you lived in Tuckahoe?"

"Of course Martin. I'd be happy to. We were . . . . wait, how did you know I lived in Tuckahoe?"

"Oh, well uh, you have an accent. That tells me you're from there."

"Hmm, yes, I guess I do. We Tuckahoe-ians are proud of our accent."

"Yes, you should be. How about if we go down and sit on your porch swing Mrs. Brown?"

"That's a good idea. We can talk and have some chocolate chip cookies. I just baked them this morning."

Uncle Martin turned to Tim and said, "I'll just be a little while. I think your favorite show is going to be on in a few minutes," he squinted at the TV set and motioned his head towards it so Tim would pick up on it.

"Hmm? Oh, right, right. I'll go watch TV then," Tim said.

Uncle Martin turned and followed Mrs. Brown down the apartment steps.

Tim stood there a moment because he was surprised that Uncle Martin had seemingly changed his mind about Mrs. Brown. Then he went over to his couch, turned on his TV and waited for it to warm up to watch his favorite show.

Uncle Martin came back upstairs in about half an hour.

"Hello Tim," he said.

"Uncle Martin, what's going on? I thought you didn't want to encourage Mrs. Brown. What were you doing going down to talk with her?"

"Don't worry Tim. When I left, she was sitting on her porch swing in a light hypnotic trance. She'll wake up and not have any memory of my being down there. She will probably wonder why so many of her cookies are missing. I like chocolate chip."

"Well, I still don't understand why you had to go and talk to her, Uncle Martin."

"Tim, you heard me ask her about her living in Tuckahoe."

"Yes, I did. What about it?" Tim asked.

"Tuckahoe is a small town, surrounded by a farming community and Mrs. Brown lived there in her teen years. At first, I read her mind about her experiences there. Then, I decided I wanted her to talk about those experiences so I could connect with life in a small town."

"That sounds interesting. Hey, maybe you'd like to visit some of the small towns we have around here. We could go to a strawberry festival or something."

"Sure, I'd like to. Maybe we could do that," Uncle Martin said. "Right now, I think I'll sit in my room and go over the materials I have to study. Good night Tim."

"Good night Uncle Martin."

The next morning, after being dropped off in front of the museum, Uncle Martin went up the steps and saw that Mr. Thomas was in the lobby waiting for him. He opened the door, shook Uncle Martin's hand and said, "Good morning Mr. O'Hara! Let me officially welcome you to your first day with us."

"Thank you, Mr. Thomas. I look forward to working here with you and your staff."

"Well, let's get started shall we?" Mr. Thomas led him down the hallway and in a short while Uncle Martin was standing at the control panel receiving instructions.

The control panel was actually a long stretch of panels taking up about eight feet which were arranged in a semi-circle. The board was full of toggles, switches, slide levers, buttons which pulsed with light when they were engaged, dials that rotated and needles which registered volume and illumination intensities. Uncle Martin was not in the least bit overwhelmed by the magnitude of these controls. In fact most of the mechanisms he saw reminded him of the flight simulator upon which he trained when he qualified for his spaceship-flying license.

Uncle Martin stood on the platform and said, "Mr. Thomas, after I left yesterday, I studied my script and the diagrams very thoroughly. I'm going to ask you to retire to your office and let me practice. If you come back after lunch, I think that I can give you my run through of the show."

"Well Mr. O'Hara, if you feel confident enough to be on your own, I can come back later," Mr. Thomas said. "Come by my office if you have any questions."

"I will. Thank you."

As soon as Mr. Thomas was gone, Uncle Martin went to work. First he projected the galaxies on the domed ceiling and saw that most of the constellations were out of register. Wanting to assure that the lights were projecting astronomical accuracy, he went under the console, found the appropriate connections and moved his fingers around while the wires connected themselves and made the proper adjustments.

Then he observed the colors and intensities of the different stars and planets and made some subtle changes for each of them. Surveying the star field, he saw that there were a few stars that were not showing up. He discovered that those bulbs had gotten loose and he twisted his fingers in the air so that the bulbs tightened themselves and those stars shone again. He ran through part of the script and found that more adjustments needed to be made. Halley's Comet kept showing up out of sync and then spiraling and crashing into the moon. Uncle Martin found that the metal arm which controlled the comet had gotten loose. He spent a large part of the morning whirling his fingers to spin the controls around and watching as wires floated around underneath the console, then checking back on top and going under the console again.

During one of the run-throughs, Uncle Martin noticed that the recorded music was sounding kind of dreary. He looked in the storage compartments under the console and found a fresh selection of music. He started to change out the tapes that were in the machine and discovered that the posts holding the reels were a bit corroded making it hard to get the reels out of the machine.

"No wonder the music sounds faded," he thought to himself. "No one bothered to change out the tape reels. Well, we'll have some good music for this next while."

Uncle Martin worked until Mr. Thomas stuck his head in the doorway and reminded him to take his lunch break. Uncle Martin went down the hall to the commissary and got himself a bowl of soup, a sandwich and, in keeping with the astronomical theme of the afternoon, he got himself a Cool Cosmos Rocket Crunch Ice Cream Bar from the freezer. As soon as he finished he headed back to the control console to do a few run throughs.

At around 1:30, Mr. Thomas came in and asked Uncle Martin if he was ready to show him and the assistant director a practice presentation. What Uncle Martin showed them must have left a good impression. When it was over, they sat quietly for a moment, then they stood up went over to Uncle Martin and shook his hand. "Mr. O'Hara, this is wonderful. We're so grateful for the work you've done here. We're sure our patrons will love this presentation."

That evening, Tim and Uncle Martin prepared supper. Tim was warming up meatballs in tomato sauce. Uncle Martin sat at the table making circular motions while a spoon responded to his finger to stir the spaghetti pot to keep the boiling pasta from sticking.

"Uncle Martin, I think the spaghetti is ready to drain. Do you want me to do it?"

"No Tim, I'll move it over to the sink. I put the strainer in there already. Just stand back."

The pot lifted from the stove, traveled across the room to the sink and steam rose from the sink as the hot pasta was dumped into the strainer. Tim set the table manually while Uncle Martin opened the toaster oven and levitated the bread sticks into the basket on the table.

When they sat down to supper, Tim asked Uncle Martin how his work on the planetarium presentation was going.

"Mr. Thomas and his assistant were very pleased when I showed them a run through this afternoon. I just have to make some adjustments tomorrow morning and the show can go live for the afternoon crowd."

"Well, good Uncle Martin. You must be very proud of yourself for accomplishing so much in such a short time."

"I am very proud Tim," said Uncle Martin, "and, I owe a lot to Mrs. Brown for helping me."

"Ha, ha, ha. For a minute there I thought you said Mrs. Brown helped you with your presentation."

"I did say that Tim, and I meant it. Do you remember when I went down to sit on her porch swing?"

"Well sure. You threw me for a loop because she's so interested in dating you but I thought that you didn't want to encourage her."

"When she was up here standing in your doorway, I read her mind and found out that she had lived out in the country when she was a young girl. She stayed on her uncle's farm and he lived in . . . "

"Tuckahoe?"

"Right. I discovered that she loved to be outside with her uncle when he was done working in his fields. They would lie on the grass and look up while he would tell her all about the stars and the planets. He was a goldmine of information, but mostly, he taught her about the wonder of the night sky. It was much darker out in the country so they could see so many more stars than we can in the city."

"How interesting."

"She still had some unconscious memories floating around in her head. The most important part was when I could sense how she felt about all of it back then, but sadly, she's forgotten much of it now, on a conscious level that is. Nevertheless, I realized through reading her mind that other people from earth, like her, really do love looking at the stars even though they can't see the same stars we can see on Mars. Yes Tim, I gathered some valuable material that I am going to use in my presentation."

"I think I should visit the planetarium and watch you work."

"I hope you do Tim. I'm sure you will gain a lot."

The next day, Tim decided to leave work early and go to the planetarium. He slipped in and took a seat towards the back just as the music was starting and the lights were dimming. After a moment, Tim's eyes adjusted to the dark and he could see Uncle Martin's silhouette as he stood on the platform.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Uncle Martin's voice said over the speakers. "Welcome. Your journey through the universe has begun and I will be your guide. Sit back now and observe."

The ceiling became a deep azure and the music played softly. "Our day here on earth is coming to an end." The western edge of the dome was a pale gold, to signify the setting sun and in the eastern sky, some stars began to appear.

As the sky gradually began to register a darker blue, more stars appeared and some constellations started to become apparent. The music became more engaging and it added an important dimension as the room was transformed from a theater in the round to a window on the edge of the universe. A couple of meteors shot across the sky then, very slowly, the moon rose. The room was rendered dark except for the ever-increasing points of light on the ceiling.

Uncle Martin spoke again, "Our sky now is as you see it on most clear nights as you gaze at it in your back yard. However, have you ever wondered, 'What was the night sky like a few hundred years ago? Before artificial lights encroached upon what we could see of the stars? When man and nature were one?'" The room became darker still and the points of light greatly increased in quantity and in dimension. Tim felt like the points of light above him had grown so large and so intense that they were almost pressing down on him. It was hard to imagine that the stars had once been so bright and so prominent in the night sky.

All at once, a loud humming noise started coming from the main projector and some of the points of light started to slide down from the ceiling and reflect onto the walls. It appeared that the projector was tilting in a direction that it had not been before and it was slipping lower. The stars started to swirl and for an instant, the dome appeared to be spinning. The crowd thought this was part of the show. They said "oooohh!" and "aaaah!" Tim sat forward in his seat out of concern but then he saw Uncle Martin, in silhouette, reacting quickly. He engaged his index finger and, under the cover of darkness, levitated the heavy projector back into place on its stand. "Folks, uh, ha ha, this is an example of what you will see when . . . " Uncle Martin stopped for a moment to concentrate on his fingering then continued. "Ahem . . . this is what you would see if the rotation of the earth were sped up." The audience applauded and Tim smiled to himself. Uncle Martin seemed to have the situation in hand.

The tour of the universe continued without further incident. Uncle Martin narrated the rest of the show and led the audience through meteor showers, nebulae and galaxies that were light years away and then brought the armchair tour back to earth safe and sound.

At the conclusion, the audience applauded. The lights came up gradually to enable the audience members' eyes to adjust to the brightness. Everyone started to pick up their jackets and programs and they began to file out of the auditorium. Tim waited in his seat while Uncle Martin spoke to a handful of individuals who had stayed behind to ask him questions.

One of the last of the children to leave turned to his mother and said, "I'm going to the moon when I grow up! I'll go zoom in my rocket ship!" He had a plastic toy that had been purchased at the gift shop and he demonstrated how he would pilot his ship out into space.

"Ohhhh, don't forget to visit Mars," Uncle Martin said, chuckling. "And if you make it that far you should try to go all the way to Klafornic."

The little boy's mother smiled at Uncle Martin and spoke to her son saying, "Say 'thank you' to the nice man."

"Thank you," the little boy said between making "sssssjjjjjj" noises as he flew his ship.

Once the visitors were gone, Tim came over to the console where Uncle Martin was standing and said, "Hey, that was great, Uncle Martin."

"Thank you Tim. I'm glad you could make it. Did you see that I almost had a crash when the projector came off the stand?"

"Yes, but you recovered and kept everything running without anyone being the wiser."

"I'm glad you appreciated that. You know, it is very satisfying to be able to share at least a little bit of my love of outer space with others."

"You gave your audience a terrific tour of the universe Uncle Martin and you helped them to connect with the wonder of it all."

"Thank you Tim. Now, let's go home and fix some gazpacho."

"Cold tomato soup? Why would you bring up something like that now?"

"Well, they fix something like that with a vegetable that grows on Cabrillo. I just have a taste for something otherworldly today. You see Tim, I realized today that not only do I miss Mars, but I miss space travel."

"Well, this job will help you connect with space travel. In a way, won't it?"

"Yes, I think it will. Now, let's go shopping and pick up some fresh tomatoes."

Tim visited the planetarium a few more times and he observed that, over time, Uncle Martin adapted well to his position. It was nice to see that Uncle Martin brought a rare insight as he enthralled his listeners with an almost poetic interpretation of outer space.