In the beginning we thought we could live in harmony. They brought us new ways to farm from their planet. They also gave us new materials to work with, which we needed in this depression we were in. They said they just needed a home and their knowledge was an exchange for that. Life was good, if not a bit tense, for the first few years. Then lots of people started going missing. Lots of conspiracies cropped up about the new visitors, but nothing substantial. Nothing a gumshoe like me could use. I spent my nights chasing dead ends and whiskey neats with more of the same. All I had anymore were lost dames and a pocket full of trouble. I had nothing personal against the visitors, they just seemed to always be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I finished my whiskey and headed down to the encampment to question a few out of towners about a nice little number that was last seen round there. I got the standard reply, "Not around here, but I'll let ya know." I knew they were hiding something but I didn't know what. As I was walking back to the dump of an office I call home, I saw a couple of them trying real hard not to be noticed. I tailed them for a couple of blocks, they headed for a joint known to be a cathouse for their kind. I thought it was a dead end until I saw my dame stumbling out. A couple of visitors scooped her up and put her in a car. That road went straight out of town and this didn't look good for the doll.
...to be continued
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