The door to old MaryLou's thrift shop opened, which in itself was a miracle these days. A youngish looking woman came up to the counter.
Yes, dear? asked MaryLou in her shaky voice, how may I help you?
I was wondering, the woman said, that film poster there behind you on the wall, I quite like it. Is it for sale?
Of course, dear, this is a thrift shop, in here everything is for sale, except for the cash register of course, MaryLou laughed and then coughed. Hell, even I am for sale. Now which poster were you thinking of?
Right behind you, the one with the blue colours.
MaryLou turned around. O yes, I remember. That's been hanging there for quite some time. Now why would you want that one?
Her youngish customer somewhat blushed. It's an intriguing story, isn't it, that poor alien who got lost on planet Earth. I never knew they'd turned it into a film.
MaryLou looked at her visitor suspiciously. Well, dear, it was never anything but a movie and I know, because they shot the damned thing just a couple of miles down the road from here.
And the film, when was it made?
That's what the fine print at the bottom is for, dear, now let me raise my glasses. Yes, that must be 1976.
76? the customer almost shrieked. Oh my Source, that is 41 years ago.
Well, you know, as they say, time flies.
The woman seemed confused. It's just, I hope I'm not too late.
Late for what, dear?
They looked each other in the eye. Strange eyes, MaryLou thought, she must be one hell of a smart woman.
The other one composed herself. Nothing, just a thought. Now how much for that poster?
That'll be thirty bucks, honey. You really seem to be liking the picture, don't you now?
Well, yes, it’s a striking image.
It is, dear. MaryLou started lifting the poster off its hooks. She took it to a kitchen table in the corner of the shop where she freed it and rolled it up, kept together with elastic band. She said: now you must show me some ID, love. It's a new law, sheriff wants to be able to track all purchases, even those of this poor thrift shop.
No problem, the other said. She produced a British passport.
Oh, that's weird, MaryLou remarked as she opened the document. Your name is Liza Jane Newton. Just like the character in the movie.
I know, Tom Newton. Her eyes turned soft when she spoke the name. Isn't he a terribly handsome man?
I guess he is. But you're now talking about the actor, right? He was a musician, actually, what's his name, Bowie, David Bowie. He was very famous back in the day.
What happened to him?
He died about a year ago, didn't quite make it to seventy, I believe.
Was he married?
O yes, to a beautiful woman. Black lady, from Africa. But you must have heard about him? I mean, you're British. He was from your country and he was one of the most famous names right up to his death.
I don't know much about music, Liza Jane defended herself.
And I don't know shit about painting but I know who Picasso was.
Who?
Some shitty artist from Spain I once heard talking about, forget it.
Now there's is this beautiful, smart, English woman and she knows nothing about culture? thought MaryLou. Isn't that the weirdest.
I would like to see this film, Liza Jane said, do you think I could find a copy somewhere?
MaryLou smiled, glad she was about to get rid of this strange customer. Why don't you go to the theatre next door? That movie was a big hit here in its day, they might be able to help you out.
At the old movie theatre, big Chuck was preparing the reels for tonight's movie, an old blockbuster which had been doing the rounds through the state of New Mexico, when a voice came from downstairs.
Hey, Chuck! I've got a lady down here who needs to talk to you.
Send her up!
Little later the door of the projector room opened and a beautiful if skinny woman entered.
I am looking for a film, she announced, a biopic about Tom Newton, what's it called, A Man Came To Earth, or something.
Chuck looked puzzled. That doesn't immediately ring a bell, sweetheart.
I have this, she said, and unrolled the poster she was carrying.
When he saw the picture, Chuck knew. He knew how to help her, that is.
I'm afraid that movie has long gone. We used to play it a lot, even had a rerun after he died. We ran it from a digitalised videotape some neighbour coughed up.
Liza Jane's turn to be puzzled. We don't use such equipment anymore, where I come from.
Nor do we, Chuck smiled. I kinda start liking you, he thought.
So I can get you a stick to see it on your home screen.
I'm afraid I haven't got such a thing, Liza Jane apologised. I'm on holiday, you see, I haven't brought anything. Just old-fashioned travelling.
Big Chuck laughed big. Then why don't you let me invite you to my home. I live around the corner. While I'm here at work, you quietly watch your own favourite. Make yourself comfortable. And if you so liked to, we could have a drink afterwards and talk movies.
Liza Jane Newton smiled broadly. She could be ravishing, even after the hardships she had gone through. She'd had to bury her baby brother and much later her mother and then she'd had to follow her dad, do the same trick, touch water that is, and see if she can find him somehow. They knew he'd become famous, like he had been planning to. And here people were talking how he was just a figure and the actor playing him, if that was an actor then they sure had found the right one, had died. She could only hope it wasn't him who had taken over the actor and had actually deceased, shortly before she arrived. If so, he might still be somewhere and she should have little problem locating him.
I thankfully accept your kind offer, Mr...?
Chuck. People call me big Chuck.
Liza Jane Newton. I am his daughter.
Whose daughter, dear?
Tom Newton's. From the film.
Chuck wasn't called big for his brain. Now there was a weird babe if he ever had known one. But he wasn't going to call her bluff. He reached behind him and pulled out his pc. Follow me, he said after he was done. He sat her up nicely and turned back to his reels. I always knew there was something strange about that guy, he thought.
Sunken deeply in between velvet cushions, a vodka fresh juice in her hand, Liza Jane learned about her father's life story. They had correctly guessed most of the early stuff, they had at times been able to pick up tv channels, which they scanned for his name. She was sad to see him get lost in alcohol and other madness this society invited to, though she couldn't imagine him having succumbed to it. And she liked his romance, at the start for sure, she felt she shouldn't in the least be sorry for mum. This was all forty Earth years ago, even if the story pretended to be further up the road. Liza Jane smiled, putting her drink away. These people were total idiots, they didn't understand shit, yet she somehow liked them. They seemed honest, in a funny way. They were cheaters, like all civilized people are, but they were so charmingly transparent in their scheming.
I think I understand how you got stuck, dad, she said aloud. It's nice here. Much better than home. Look, they even got some green. She brought her open hands together and put a stern face. Well, Thomas Jerôme Newton, are you still out there? Your daughter awaits your answer.
