At Luna Prime, the mining and research base at the edge of Hertzsprung Crater on the far side of the Moon, you’ll find a small tavern called The Crow Bar. Located on the second level below the base, the place is nestled within a maze of dark gray corridors mostly frequented by maintenance drones. You have to look closely between the panels of conduit and pipes for the tavern’s only window. There, you’ll notice a neon sign with the face of a crow. Its right eye blinks every ten seconds, as though it’s winking.

 

Despite its obscure location, the Crow Bar has had its share of famous connections. The crew that made the first successful landing on Titan used to visit here during training. Miss Venus 2273 used to be one of our servers. And Doctor Ted Hill — yes, the same Doctor Hill who won the Galactic Nobel Prize last year — was for the longest time one of our regulars.

 

Now, Doc was a bit of an eccentric. He's the only guy I knew at Luna Prime who wore a tie, which is both strange and amusing because ties went out of fashion in 2144. I don’t think I’ve ever seen his hair (what’s left of it) combed. And his eyeglasses are always off-kilter.

 

I met Doc about four years ago, shortly after he came to Luna Prime to do his research. Something to do with seismic activity. It was a Wednesday afternoon.

 

“Pardon me, my good sir,” he said as he took a stool at the bar. “I usually—"

 

“Good sir?” I interrupted. “My name’s Richard. But everyone calls me Dick.”

 

“And mine is Dr. Theodore Hill,” he answered. “As I was saying, I usually drink martinis, but I wish to mix it up, pardon the pun. New assignment and all. Would you happen to have the ingredients to make a daiquiri?”

 

“Sure, we got rum, triple sec, sugar and lime juice.”

 

“Ah, very good,” said the doctor, rubbing his hands together. “But I would like you to substitute the lime juice.”

 

“No prob,” I replied. “In terms of something citrusy, I’ve got orange and grapefruit juice. Choose one.”

 

“No,” said Doc, shaking his head. “I would prefer a licorice daiquiri.”

 

Licorice! See what I mean about eccentric? But who was I to say a licorice daiquiri sounded absolutely horrible? Heck, some people like anchovies on their pizza. Besides, I’m in the customer service business, which means the customer is always right. So, I did some scrounging around and found a bottle of anisette.

 

“How’s that?” I asked, setting the drink in front of him.

 

The doctor took a sip, smacked his lips and smiled.

 

“That, Dick, is perhaps the best licorice daiquiri I have ever tasted.”

 

From that day on, each weekday at precisely five-thirty, Doc would take his seat at the same stool, drink two licorice daiquiris, pay me, and leave. It got to the point where I would prepare the first drink at five twenty-five and have it waiting for him.

 

Until the day we ran out of anisette.

 

Not knowing what else to do, I reached for a bottle of Liquid Smoke. I set the glass on the bar counter just as Doc was walking in.

 

Doc sat down at his usual spot and took a long sip.

 

“Is that a licorice daiquiri, Dick?” he asked.

 

“No, it’s a hickory daiquiri, Doc.”

 

Doc rose, paid his tab and left. I haven’t seen him since.