When You Need the Hairdresser to the Stars

A pure fractal made in Apophysis 2.09, mirrored and overlaid upon itself

One of the bright sides of being in the Solar System for a long stretch of time while the matters around the loss of the Farragut were sorted out was getting to get an appointment at my uncle's hair shop.

No, not my uncle Adm. Benjamin Banneker-Jackson, who could do a lot of things, but …

“A man has to know his limits,” he said. “If you need me to go to the lab and figure out what from planet X might work well in your hair care line, I might be able to work that out. If you need somebody to do your hair for the next fleet event, go to my elder brother Bedford.”

Bedford Banneker was for most of his life more famous than his fleet brother, only being eclipsed toward the very end in popular media simply because Uncle Benjamin's predictions at last started manifesting in space to the point that they were public spectacles of wonder, and then those jealous of Uncle Benjamin began making public spectacles of themselves, although not so wonderful.

But Uncle Bedford was famous throughout the human-led consortium for nine decades as “Hairdresser to the Stars,” and the first thing you need to understand about how amazing that was is to understand that in the 23rd century, that meant an entirely different thing than it did in even the 22nd, to say nothing of the 21st and 20th centuries in which the term came into its own. Back in ancient times, “stars” were celebrities, and they still are, but they can be from any one out of a thousand different star systems.

“Ben finds new lifeforms, and I make sure they look their best for when they have to interact with us,” he liked to say.

To truly understand this, you would have to book an appointment and then wait until it came up – he and the two generations of hairdressers that he had trained by time always had a full shop both on Earth and at the satellite shop on Mars, because there just weren't that many places in the Solar System that literally managed all types of hair. The interstellar clientele kept the shops full.

Case in point: the creature above me was the client being served before my appointment, and the picture does not do the scale justice. It was literally a full head of hair.The central ring from which all this was growing, hidden within, contained the brain and the body. The being was also much taller and broader than Uncle Bedford, so he was moving around in a whole hover chair doing what he did better than anyone else in the galaxy. He did not take many clients at age 85, but this was an ambassador concerned about an important meeting with Earthlings.

“I wish I could say that all humans I have met have been as kind and understanding and caring as you. There is much good we can accomplish together, but all I can do is make sure there is no unnecessary friction on my part while also remaining true to who I am.”

“Well, Ambassador Ghariala, there's nothing you can do about the fact that every bald man and thinning-hair woman at the meeting is going to be hating on you just because, but about the rest, I've got you, because I know where the disconnect is happening. Your next meeting is going to be fantastic.”

“I trust you, Mr. Banneker.”

So, I waited, and smiled as I saw what my uncle was doing, and smiled all the more as the moment of the big reveal came.

“What is this marvel? You have given me a face cut! I have a mini-face!”

“And you can comb that back into your usual style when you are finished with all this,” Uncle Bedford said. “See, humans don't have the sensitivity in our hairs – well, I take that back because my younger brother is practically a telepath and I don't know how he is doing it – most of us can't air-glide into a room and sense the difference between what people are saying and what they mean because our hairs pick up the heat changes and smells and so forth of the body when communicating. For that matter, we can't air-glide into a room by having a mini-helicopter built into our hairs.

“What we humans need to read each other is a face, so this style gives you one that will move around as you move to pick up what is being said and communicated. You will be able to feel people calming down when you glide in with it, even though they will not fully understand how it works.”

“And you made me handsome like you, Mr. Banneker!”

“Of course – I never have anybody come in here not looking less than their best when they leave … I have a bit of that human pride as well!”

Ambassador Ghariala laughed and showed why Uncle Bedford was doing his or her hair outside: that hair stirred up enough wind to have blown a customer station apart … and that caused me to think, as a fleet captain, of how little we knew about the hopes and dreams and emotions of other beings because we were not prepared to know. Uncle Bedford, however, never was held back. He just made room – and speaking of which, when it was all done –.

“Clear the pad!”

How the ambassador moved was by using all that hair to generate lift, but Earth's gravity and atmosphere was thinner than his or her home planet, so it took a bit more effort to take off – the turbulence was about a quarter as much as a helicopter would be. Once up, the ambassador could smooth out the air flow and remain hovering for many hours before needing to land. This energy output was not as hard as one thought because Earth's sun supported the creature's ability to photosynthesize as well as back home, so as long as the sun was up, he or she was eating and flying at the same time. It was a good setup, overall, for a head of hair.

“Come on inside, Captain Niece!” my uncle called to me after Ambassador Ghariala was out of sight.

I was soon in my uncle's chair, looking around at the stellar lineup of happy customers in the shop.

“So what are we doing today, Khadijah?” my uncle said.

“Rufus is coming back from his run back to Ventana 5 tomorrow so I'd like to look a bit extra spicy for him.”

“I've got you, niece! You have a good head shape for the queen braid from Bybyu 4, although obviously we don't need to put the local clay in it and bake it.”

“Got the hair kiln up and going again today, Uncle?”

“Yes, because Princess Uou is going to the same meeting the ambassador is.”

At some point, as ever, Uncle Bedford looked at my full head of freshly washed hair and chuckled.

“Just like Great-Grandma Khadijah Banneker – look at all this glory! I'm still saying what she was saying: God gave us this African hair so we would be ready for everything, and I'm adding, including being hairdressers to the stars!”

When Uncle Bedford passed away three years ago, Ambassador Ghariala was among those from a thousand star systems to come pay their respects to the family, and also set up an appointment at the shop. That branch of the Bannekers, three generations deep by the time Uncle Bedford passed, was and is keeping the tradition going.

“But I still can't get an appointment in less than three months, Bedelia?” I said when I recently called over there.

“I'mma tell you just like Grandpa: you're just a human being, Khadijah! You can go to any shop, but we are hairdressers to the stars over here!”

And we fell out laughing, and crying, remembering Bedford Banneker with love.