Read Alien Nation #3 - Body and Soul for Free Online Page B

that had been going nowhere, who decided to ignore the axiom against throwing good money after bad and fronted some of the more business-wise Newcomers in their various enterprises.
    It seemed the sleazier the businesses, the better they did. Strip joints, sex palaces, and the like turned an extremely tidy profit. The appeal was interracial. When the Tenctonese had traveled through space, cooped up and enslaved on the ship that eventually crashed on earth, they had lived a very rigid and insulated existence. The freedom to follow their impulses once they had arrived on earth had triggered in some the baser instincts. Sexual freedom, and the privilege of ogling Tenctonese females openly displaying their wares, was like a narcotic to many. They worked that much harder to be able to afford frequenting such places.
    And there were plenty of humans turning up at such places, too. The alienness was an irresistible lure to many an Earth male. How were they like Earth females? Where were the differences? It was an enticing guessing game, and anyone could play.
    As the sexual tension bubbled through Little Tencton, other businesses began opening to support it. Food stores. Laundries. Housing that ranged from being rented yearly to being rented hourly.
    As time passed, Little Tencton developed an almost schizophrenic personality. During the day, it was somewhat run-down, although no more so than other parts of Los Angeles. Newcomers eked out a living where they could, some holding genuine jobs while others settled for begging in the streets. Unlike other ghettos, though, Little Tencton actually attracted a fair share of tourists. It wasn’t exactly the safest part of town, but that hint of danger just added to the appeal.
    But night was when Little Tencton really came alive.
    It was not a healthy sort of life. Indeed, it was the sort of thriving life that one sees when one lifts a rock.
    But it was life.
    It was a little after 1:00 A.M. The streets were fairly quiet, with the silence punctured every time someone opened the entrance to a bar or strip joint. During those moments you could hear shouting and music and the sounds of raucous laughter before it was cut off by the slamming door.
    A car was cruising down the street. In it was a plumbing supply salesman from out of town. It was his first time in Los Angeles, and he was curious to see Little Tencton.
    On the one hand, he was disappointed. It looked about as unappealing as any other lower scale part of town in any city he’d been to.
    On the other hand, he noticed the little things. The graffiti, in particular, all written in that bizarre alien language that looked like one of those lines that tracks someone’s heartbeat. And there were the store signs as well, written in both English and Tenctonese.
    Over on the corner was one place in particular with a sign across it that made the salesman chuckle. It read CLANCY’S MILK BAR. He’d heard that the Newcomers were unaffected by alcohol, but could get really tanked up on sour milk. Go figure.
    By seeing these subtle hints of the alien culture that existed in little Tencton, it all became that much more real to the salesman. Hell, if the whole area had been redone to look like the surface of some alien planet, then it would have seemed hokey. Unbelievable, like something out of that television show about the bald captain and the android . . .
    The door to the milk bar opened, and the salesman saw his first Little Tencton residents. A man and a woman, looking down on their luck and shabbily dressed, were being ushered out of the milk bar. They didn’t look especially happy about it, and they shook their fists and cursed loudly in Tenctonese.
    The salesman had slowed for a light, and as he watched the minor drama, the door of the bar was slammed in the face of the indigent Newcomers. They continued to hurl profanities at the uncaring door. The salesman chuckled. It was fascinating to see how some forms of behavior seemed to cross