look at me still talking when there's science to do

(note: shadesong was the one that originally inspired this piece, so ... yeah. Partly her idea, partly mine. *mwah*)

Rigel Prime was the glitziest, glaringest planet this side of Darvan II; a place more Vegas than Vegas, more decadent than the Romans, built on money and impenetrable consumerism and the flickering fog of constant fads. It was a place where dreams came true. At least they did if you had enough money to throw at them. That was the secret.

The young man who was headed down the main drag of Rigel Prime's capital city seemed positively ordinary. At least he was earth-ordinary, which was only mildly extraordinary here. Boredom was a spectator sport on Rigel, with its participants constantly caught up in the proverbial battle of who could care less. If Godzilla and Mothra decided to have their epic battle here instead of Tokyo Harbor, the Rigellians would just yawn and turn to the next page of their menus.

Yes, the only things not ordinary about him were the satisfied grin on his face, the pleased little wiggle in his walk. He was carrying a secret behind those yellow-green eyes and in that patchily highlighted hair, and that, if anything, was what made most of the passers-by look up at him. Secrets were currency, after all. The populace needed something to be bored about.

He turned into a large building and found his way up to the second floor, circling nearly around the entire outer donut of the dual-ring structure before he reached his destination, which was a door unremarkably like all the other doors.

The receptionist took a moment to survey him as she looked up from painting her claws and inclined her head toward the back room. "The doctor will see you, Mr. Yarrow."

He smiled and nodded and disappeared into the inner sanctum.

"Ah, Ryan." The doctor nodded briskly and opened a file on his tablet computer. "Did you ever manage to decide what it was you wanted?"

"Yes. Yes, I think I have."

"You understand this is terribly expensive." he cautioned. "And your insurance won't cover it, of course; it's completely cosmetic."

"I realise that."

"Just making sure." He nodded briskly. "So. What are we doing today?"

Ryan pulled a picture out of his pocket; a tattered, folded earth-photograph, years old and light years distant, of a grey-brown tabby cat lounging in a faraway window. "This. I want the tail. Just the tail."