The Roadside Diner

Robin shifted gears and pumped the air brakes on her eighteen wheeler. Her rig came to a slow stop behind a long line of cars. The desert highway was bathed crimson by their brake lights. The darkened cab flashed with the muted red and blue of the strobes coming from the emergency vehicles in the distance. From her perch above the shorter vehicles, she could see another truck had overturned, blocking much of the road ahead.

Robin sat back in her seat and said a quick prayer for whoever had been involved in the accident. It was going to take the authorities a while to get a tow truck out here capable of righting the flipped tractor trailer. Her stomach grumbled and she frowned. She had been looking forward to stopping for a hot home-style meal. One of those chain restaurants that catered to travelers and truckers, like herself, was located just off an exit beyond the overturned truck.

The line of vehicles inched forward as the police started diverting traffic down a narrow side road. Robin opened the map app on her phone and discovered that the road led through a small town. Several years ago, during a similar detour, she had learned the hard way that small town streets generally weren’t designed for the weight or height of her haul.

A few quick taps on the app and she found an alternate route. It led her further out into the desert, but she was good on gas and the time estimate didn’t take her too far off schedule. She grabbed a handful of peanuts from the dash. Her dinner was just going to have to wait.

***

Robin deftly navigated the narrow lane along with the other, smaller vehicles. The robotic voice on her phone directed her that the road she wanted to take was up ahead. She turned onto the two lane highway. It was empty and very dark, but it was wide and smoothly paved. Beyond her headlights all she could see was a line of black tarmac with miles of sand on either side.

She’d been following the road for some time when she realized she hadn’t seen a single car since turning off. That wasn’t too unusual for night travel in the desert, aside from the occasional backup after a wreck, but it still unnerved her enough that she double checked the map. Her concern was only heightened when she saw that she had no cell signal. She flicked on the old CB radio and sent out a call, but only static returned.

Robin glanced back up and noticed an orange glow in the distance. As she got closer it grew brighter and the outline of a large silver, oval shaped building began to take shape. Robin slowed her truck as she neared the roadside diner. Her stomach growled in approval and her brain suggested she could get a meal and directions there.

She pulled off the road and parked the truck. There was no formal parking lot, just an expanse of hard packed sand surrounding the structure. Strangely, there was no signage announcing the restaurant, unless you counted the large neon one on top of the building. With how bright it was against the black backdrop of the desert, with nothing else for miles around, she guessed the owner didn't feel the need to waste money on a stand alone sign. The lack of planning gave the place a weird vibe though. Like some giant hand had just plopped it down in the desert one day.

Robin didn’t see any other cars or trucks, but the open sign was on in the window. Maybe the workers parked around back. She turned off her truck and slipped the keys into her jeans pocket. She hopped down and smoothed the wrinkles from her green flannel shirt.

The diner was one of those old 1950’s stainless steel railroad car designs, which explained why it looked like a giant silver tube from a distance. The enormous neon sign on its roof proclaimed it was “Astra’s Diner”. The lettering glowed an orange-red against the backdrop of a large silver disk behind it. Two giant, glowing white stars flanked the lettering. Neon lighting circled the roof-line and similarly red painted racing stripes encircled its base. Block lettering in the windows boasted ‘Good Eats’ and “Open 24 Hours!”

It was all very retro. Robin’s mother loved all things retro. She stopped in front of the restaurant and pulled out her phone to snap a picture to send to her later. Just as she was about to take the photo her screen went dark. The phone beeped twice, flashing a low battery sign, then cut off completely. The phone should have had a full charge. The cable must have jiggled lose from the port again. She’d have to remember to check it when she got back on the road. Hopefully they’d have some sort of postcard or takeout menu with a picture of the place on it that she could snag.

Robin entered the diner and a little bell hanging from the door tinkled, announcing her presence. A bright blue light flashed above her head and she looked up at it, momentarily stunned. A very large bug zapper hung above the door frame. Evidently it had just caught a big one.

“Take a seat. I’ll be right with you!” A female voice called from the back in a singsong tone.

Robin looked around and smiled at the interior. It was a perfect replica of a 1950’s roadside diner complete with white and black checked floor, a curved silver ceiling, and a long white bar with red cushioned stools and a metal pipe footrest. Several bulb lights ran the length of the room, giving the restaurant a bright, crisp appearance. Narrow booths, with matching red cushions, were placed back to back along the windows. The place was spotlessly clean and the metal fixtures shined with a recent polish.

As expected from the empty lot around the building, there were no other customers. She had her pick of places to sit. Robin didn’t much like perching on stools, being a larger woman, so she headed towards one of the booths. She scooched into her seat. A charming jukebox at the other end of the room slid a disk into place and started playing as if on queue.

Robin recognized the song immediately from her childhood and a smile spread on her face at the memories it brought back. The song was ‘The Little Space Girl’ by Jesse Lee Turner. It was a cute little pop song about a lonely man who met and married a lonely alien girl. Her mother used to play it a lot when she was little. Robin’s mother had an extensive collection of vinyl records that she still played to this day. No one could convince her to swap to digital.

The music went a long way to help fill in the silence from the lack of customers and staff, but something still felt weird. Maybe it was the lack of food smells. Since there were no customers it reasoned that no food was currently being cooked, but a diner without delicious scents wafting through it still felt off. Robin had been in a lot of roadside diners, although few as charming and authentic as this one, and they frequently had a flat grill behind the counter. This one must be designed with the kitchen in back because there was no sign of the chief or any of the usual counter clutter, like a coffee maker.

Robin glanced around the table for a menu, but didn’t see one. There wasn’t one hanging above the counter either. On closer inspection, the booth she had chosen to sit in appeared to be the only one with a set table. All the others, including the long white counter, were missing the usual dressings.

Her table was complete, however, with a napkin holder, salt and pepper shakers, ketchup and hot sauce, and a tightly wrapped bundle of silverware. A paper placemat with the Astra’s Diner logo from the neon sign outside was laying in front of her. Underneath the logo, underlined by the tail of a shooting star, the tag line “Our food is out of this world!” was printed. She flipped the placemat over to see if the menu was on the back but it was blank.

She must have unconsciously chosen to sit at a set table. Maybe that was what was keeping the waitress busy in the back. She must be cleaning and refilling all the condiment containers.

The smell of bacon caused Robin to raise her head. A waitress holding a brown circular tray started placing plates of food in front of her. The waitress appeared like she had stepped right out of a stereotypical diner painting. She had blonde hair and a pale complexion and her nails were painted as red as her lips. She was wearing a light pink dress with a little white apron and her name tag reveled her to be Astra herself.

Robin was totally caught off guard. The breakfast feast the waitress arranged before her reminded her of vacations at her grandmother’s house. There was a stack of pancakes and a stack of french toast. Another plate held several strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, and crispy hash browns with a bit of melted cheese on top. A bowl of grits and gravy sat to one side beside a steaming cup of coffee. Another smaller bowl held butter packets and cream cups. Astra finished by placing a warm maple syrup dispenser next to the pancakes and a tall, chilled glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

“But I didn’t order yet…” Robin stared at the food in front of her and then slowly realized it was everything she would have ordered had she actually been given the chance to. “How did you know what I would want?”

The waitress waved off her question. “When you’ve done this as long as I have, hon, you get good at guessing.”

Robin thought that was an odd answer. The woman couldn’t have been more then thirty. How long could she have possibly owned the place? Maybe it had been passed down to her from a parent?

“Just holler if you need anything, hon. I’ll be in the back tidying up.” Astra placed the round tray on the counter by the register and disappeared back through the kitchen door.

The jukebox continued to play era appropriate songs and Robin proceeded to gobble down all her food. It tasted amazing. Everything was perfectly cooked. The orange juice was cold and sweet and she drained the glass. Astra reappeared just as Robin was finishing the last of her grits.

The waitress bused her table and then placed the tray with the empty dishes back onto the counter. Robin followed her over to the cash register and looked around for a postcard or trinket rack. Most of these places had some sort of souvenirs for sale, this one apparently did not.

“This is a lovely diner you have.” Robin commented as she pulled a few ones out of her wallet. She dropped them into the tip jar on the counter.

“Why thank you!” Astra smiled at her.

“Do you happen to have any postcards?” Robin asked, looking around again.

“Oh I’m sorry, wouldn’t you know, we’re fresh out!” The waitress illustrated her shared disappointment with a little pout.

“No worries.” Robin responded. She’d just have to swing by the next time her haul took her out this way. The food was certainly worth it.

Astra gave her the total and she handed her a twenty. As the waitress was digging around for her change she noticed that there were some strange bills in the till. Someone had apparently tried to pay with Euros and Astra had been kind enough to accept them. Tourists...

“Do you happen to know the way back to the main highway?” Robin asked as she tucked the change back into her wallet.

“Oh yes, just follow the road. It will lead you back. There really isn’t any other way to go.” The waitress chuckled.

***

Astra watched from a window as the human woman’s truck barreled down the highway, rear lamps quickly fading into the desert night. She flipped a small switch hidden on the underside of the open sign. The neon light instantly clicked off. The scanner over the door went dark as well. The jukebox on the other side of the room began to slowly wind down, warping Elvis Presley’s ‘You’re the Devil in Disguise’ until it fell completely silent.

With a soft hiss, metal plates slid into place over the windows, the door, and the decorative exterior features. The overhead lights dimmed to maintenance level and a low hum vibrated through the restaurant as power was diverted to the front of the ship. Astra did a quick walk through to make sure anything not bolted to the floor was secured for the trip back home. She carefully picked up the tray of used dishes.

Astra passed through the door behind the counter and entered a small room. She set the tray on top of the sustenance replicator and quickly changed out of her waitress costume and into her flight suit. Her skin itched and her muscles ached from being crammed into a human appearance for so long.

She pressed a button on the wall and two holes opened up. A pneumatic tube dropped a clean specimen cylinder into one of the openings. Astra took the used juice cup from the tray and nestled it inside. Then she placed the rest of the dirty dishes into the other chamber to be disinfected.

The wall resealed itself and the room glowed with blue light. Astra closed her eyes and held her breath as the ceiling misted her with decontamination fluid. The fluid dried quickly and the sterilization light shut off as another door slid open. Astra stepped out onto the flight deck.

Stelo swiveled his chair around to face her. She noticed with some annoyance that her younger brother was in the captain’s seat again and had been resting his grimy tentacles on her control panel.

“Was the mission successful?” Stelo asked.

“It always is.” Astra rolled all five of her eyes at him and held up the cylinder, which he could clearly see she was carrying.

“This is so much easier then the way we used to do things.” Stelo commented.

Astra mumbled in agreement as she glided over to the cubicles tucked into the side wall. The computer took notice of her proximity and the back lighting brightened, illuminating their bountiful collection of specimen containers. They spanned the width and height of the flight deck. She slid the one she carried into the remaining empty spot.

“Its like taking candy from a baby.” Stelo continued, nonsensically.

Astra turned around and narrowed her many eyes at him. “What? I mean it would probably have DNA on it, but a baby isn’t going to come into the restaurant. And if a baby was brought into the restaurant by its parents, I certainly wouldn’t take it’s candy. Such an aggressive act would likely provoke the mother and that could compromise our cover.”

“Its an old human saying that..oh never-mind.” Stelo began to explain and then thought better of it. His sister could be incredibly dense at times and he didn’t want to sit through another lengthy lecture on the revised rules and regulations governing interactions with other planetary species.

Astra glared at him and then pointedly looked at his chair. She faced the wall again and ordered the computer to secure the specimens and prepare for take off. By the time she turned back around, Stelo had wisely belted himself into the co-pilot seat and was wiping the smudges off her control panel with one of his sleeves.