In the previous part the town of Barington was described, and some anecdotal insight was given into the nature of its residents; the aliens have arrived, and been described, but invariably the narrator has wandered off on some wacko tangent or another about the various other races known to enjoy Earth, so who knows when he (or she) will get down to the whole "humans interacting with actual aliens" shtick. ~ MSM
I should explain that, on Andromeda, it is not a crime to be ordinary like it is in other places. In fact, it's rather a requirement; because special people invariably had an unfair advantage in life, and equally invariably got special treatment because of it, and because to the Andromedan mind this was spectacularly unfair, over many thousands of millenia each and every Andromedan had come to have the same build, the same intellect, the same salary... It was, to the highly evolved if highly pedantic Andromedan mind, the only way they could all be equals.
Had they been Centauris, though, these Andromedans would have been among the first to earn a free trip to Earth as exiles (whom they called borings); Earth’d, the most popular programme on Centauri television, twice daily featured the dullest of their race being lured to Earth by attractive females then abandoned, often without their clothing (especially if it's a week in which ratings are compiled, cruel nudity being almost as popular there as short video clips of blokes getting clocked in the goolies on Earth).
If in your workplace you have a coworker who is large and silent, chances are you have met an Earth'd Centauri. If you’ve seen a Yeti or better yet, a fellow with an excellent Wookiee costume at a nude beach, known anyone or anything even remotely Sasquatchian (including Sasquatch), chances are he - for they are always a he - was a loser on Earth’d. They are large and hairy because they are Centauri and they are silent because they’d rather not talk about it, thank you very much, denial being a rather chic pastime of their race. Still, you should always hug one if you can; in Centauri mythology it’s said to either ‘bring luck to the helper’ or else ‘help the hugger get lucky’. Exactly which, naturally, has been the cause of much sectarian strife between the intersecting systems of Alpha and Beta Centauri, as translations vary - a situation scarcely remedied following twelve centuries of bloodshed known as the Translation Wars, during which the good people of Gamma Centauri were wise to keep well out of by professing a deep affection for atheism, until they and their planet were devastated by an attack from the agnostics of Centauri Delta.
Likewise, if you’ve ever seen a leprechaun, a pixie, or a fairy (especially when potted) you’ve seen an Oriononian - since normally the only way a human being can see fast enough to make one out is with the aid of some chemical assistance. On the other hand, a gnome who just stands there leaning on his rake and grinning insipidly - whether beside a water feature or as the focal point of a rock garden - that’s an Oriononian ‘colonist’, a variety of layabout whose slackdaw ways are so anathema to the flibbertigibbet Oriononian majority that he (for again, they are always a he) is exiled forthwith to concentration camps (which on Earth are known by the twee euphemism 'garden centres') and from there they are sold into what constitutes slavery on Orion - being forced to slowly farm the most shadowy corners of the dampest countries on the most obscure planets forever. Oriononian colonists, it should be noted, are the most contented exiles ever, though they do not brag about it like, say, Australians.
So Centauris and Oriononians you may have seen, but you wouldn’t have ever seen an Andromedan on Earth; until, that is, May 12th. That’s because these five were the first of their kind ever to come here, and, as has already been alluded that was the day they arrived. The reason for this is a long and convoluted one, and one which is scarcely believable besides; still, I'm going to tell you anyway...
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