Candidate number 45 glared across the table at the three-Martian interview panel: Algernon, Beatrice and Claire.
Claire began. “So… 45, why should you be CEO of Mars?”
“I’m the colour of Mars. And everyone says I’m the best.”
“That’s not what we’ve heard. And this is Mars, not Earth,” Angernon pointed out. “And your slogan… ‘Make Mars Great Again’. Are you saying Mars isn’t great already?”
“Mars has no atmosphere!”
Before 45 could say any more, Beatrice vaporised him with a death ray.
“I like our atmosphere,” she complained. “Next candidate – 46!” she called out.
A frail old man entered.
Claire began. “So… 45, why should you be CEO of Mars?”
“I’m the colour of Mars. And everyone says I’m the best.”
“That’s not what we’ve heard. And this is Mars, not Earth,” Angernon pointed out. “And your slogan… ‘Make Mars Great Again’. Are you saying Mars isn’t great already?”
“Mars has no atmosphere!”
Before 45 could say any more, Beatrice vaporised him with a death ray.
“I like our atmosphere,” she complained. “Next candidate – 46!” she called out.
A frail old man entered.
