The morning was already alive with the sounds of work.
From the dairy barn came the steady hiss of milk filling bright steel pails. Carpenters' hammers echoed from the new pantry. Somewhere beyond the hill a saw bit into oak, while the distant whistle of Buck Rogers' restored locomotive drifted through the valley like an old friend clearing its throat.
Rebecca found Mike standing beside one of the carnival wagons, carefully polishing the brass trim on the carousel.
"You've been busy already," she said.
Mike smiled.
"I always polish before I assemble. It makes the rides happier."
Rebecca laughed.
"I've never heard anyone say rides can be happy."
"They can," Mike answered seriously. "Children know the difference."
Rebecca nodded.
"I believe you."
She studied him for a moment.
His sandy brown hair had grown long and uneven. It curled over his ears and hung into his eyes whenever he looked down.
"Mike."
"Yes, ma'am?"
"I think today we're going into town."
His eyebrows lifted.
"For supplies?"
"No."
She smiled.
"For a haircut."
Mike instinctively reached for his hair.
"My haircut?"
Rebecca nodded.
"You're going to meet visitors from all over the universe before long."
She grinned.
"We might as well make you presentable."
The little barber shop had survived because no one had thought to move it.
The striped pole still stood outside.
Inside, the familiar smell of bay rum, shaving soap, and clean towels welcomed every customer.
Old Mr. Jenkins looked up as Rebecca opened the door.
"Morning, Rebecca."
"Morning, Harold."
His eyes settled on Mike.
"Well now\..."
He walked around him once.
"I don't believe I've ever cut the hair of... whatever you are."
Mike politely extended his hand.
"I'm Mike."
Harold shook it.
"Pleased to meet you, Mike."
He pointed toward the chair.
"Hop up there."
Mike climbed into the oversized barber chair.
Harold wrapped the striped cloth around his neck.
"Comfortable?"
"Yes, sir."
The barber scratched his chin.
"Now then..."
He gently lifted one unusual ear.
"Hmm."
He combed.
"Hmm."
He stepped back.
"Hmm."
Rebecca couldn't help laughing.
"Having trouble?"
"I've been cutting hair forty-five years."
He chuckled.
"But this is definitely a first."
Soon the scissors began their familiar rhythm.
Snip.
Snip.
Snip.
Locks of hair floated quietly to the floor.
Mike sat perfectly still.
Every so often Harold tilted his head, combed again, then made another careful trim.
Finally he dusted Mike's neck.
"There."
He turned the chair toward the mirror.
Mike blinked.
He stared.
Then blinked again.
"Is... is that me?"
Rebecca clasped her hands together.
"My goodness."
"You clean up wonderfully."
Harold folded his arms proudly.
"I'd say that's one respectable-looking Gazoony."
Mike couldn't stop smiling.
"I like it."
As they walked back through the settlement, people waved.
Several called out.
"Morning, Mike!"
"Looking sharp!"
"Didn't recognize you!"
Mike blushed a little each time.
Rebecca noticed.
"You'll have to get used to compliments."
"I'm trying."
Their next stop was the dairy barn.
Inside, twenty milkmaids worked with practiced hands.
The rhythmic sound of milk striking the pails filled the building like gentle rain.
Mary looked up first.
"Rebecca!"
Then she saw Mike.
Her eyes widened.
"Well!"
The other girls turned.
One by one smiles spread across the barn.
"My goodness."
"Doesn't he look handsome?"
"I hardly recognized him."
Mike's cheeks instantly became bright red.
Rebecca leaned toward him.
"Mike?"
He stared very hard at the floor.
"Yes?"
"Your face is changing colors."
The girls giggled.
Mike swallowed.
"I..."
Rebecca waited.
"I haven't been around many pretty young ladies before."
For one silent heartbeat nobody spoke.
Then the barn exploded with laughter.
Not cruel laughter.
Warm laughter.
The kind shared among friends.
Mary wiped a tear from her eye.
"Well," she said, "that's just about the nicest compliment we've had all week."
Another milkmaid stepped forward.
"So tell us, Mike..."
"Is it true you're bringing elephants?"
Mike immediately brightened.
"Oh yes."
"They're part of my family."
That drew another round of smiles.
One young woman folded her arms thoughtfully.
"I wonder..."
She grinned.
"Maybe you can teach us how to milk an elephant."
Mike considered the question with complete seriousness.
He rubbed his chin.
"I suppose."
Everyone leaned in.
"The first thing you'll need..."
He paused.
"...is a very large bucket."
The barn erupted again.
Even the cows lifted their heads as if wondering what all the excitement was about.
Rebecca laughed until tears formed in her eyes.
She slipped her arm through Mike's.
"I think you've made some new friends."
Mike smiled shyly around the barn.
As they stepped back into fresh air, the laughter of the milkmaids followed them out across the valley, mixing with the sounds of saws, hammers, wagons, and the quiet rhythm of a community preparing not just for trade, but for the simple joy of welcoming guests.
For Mike, it had started with nothing more complicated than a haircut.
And somehow, that made Earth feel even more like home.