by David Moody
‘You think?’
‘Absolutely. You just have to think logically.’
Tom barely managed to suppress a grin. The alien was getting dangerously close to the realms of parody now. He was starting to sound like Mr Spock.
‘So what happens when you don’t have time? What about when you need to make a snap decision? Life or death?’
‘There’s a process. A way of thinking.’
‘So you all think the same way? How come you’re not all just clones?’
‘Because free thought and expression is still encouraged. We live and work within a specific framework, but what we do within that framework is still open to individual interpretation.’
‘Do you believe in gods?’ Rob asked
‘No.’
‘And you all get on?’ Tom said.
‘To an extent. There’s plenty of tolerance and very little conflict, if that’s what you mean.’
‘What about when you meet someone you don’t like. There must have been someone…’
‘My race or alien?’
‘Your race,’ Tom immediately replied. ‘Alien.’
He shook his head.
‘No one’s ever pissed you off?’
‘Pissed me off?’
‘Got on your nerves? Annoyed you?’
‘You’re the first for a while.’
‘Any of your own kind?’
‘No.’
‘So let me see if I’ve got this right… you live in a perfect world where there’s no resentment or discrimination, where everyone gets on with everyone else and…’
‘Tom,’ Siobhan snapped at him angrily, ‘for fuck’s sake, will you give it a rest?’
He ignored her and continued. ‘…and you all do everything for the greater good and…’
‘What’s your point?’ Rob butted in, sounding equally annoyed.
‘My point is I find it hard to believe any of this. I keep coming back to the same point, if everything’s so perfect, why did you end up here with your bloody spaceship fucked?’
‘Because, as I’ve already explained, although we’re well-ordered and controlled, the rest of the universe isn’t.’ Jall sounded remarkably calm. ‘Believe what you like, Tom, the fact is it’s all true. We work together because it’s the collective effort of each one of us that keeps the integrity of our society strong. We are all equal.’
‘And do you feel superior?’
‘Superior to what?’
‘Us.’
The alien thought carefully for a moment, maintaining eye contact with Tom. ‘Yes,’ he finally answered. ‘How could I not?’
*
The conversation continued long into the night without Tom who took himself away to cool off. He was disappointed with himself, but stood by the questions he’d asked and concerns he’d raised. He came to the conclusion that it was the alien’s placid, Vulcan-like calm and holier-than-thou demeanour which had annoyed him more than anything.
He calmed himself down with more beer and loud music. He lay on his bed, headphones in, a half empty can in his hand, and tried to clear his mind of everything for a while. But the alien was in his thoughts constantly.
The music – an album he’d played hundreds of times over the years but which still mattered to him as much as when he’d first fallen in love with it – helped him to focus. Each song meant something different, every new track reminding him of a moment in time. The lyrics resonated. Every last note mattered. And he found himself thinking: how could something as unique as this music have been created without character, personality and spontaneity? Riffs were the results of happy accidents. Drum beats and loops were discovered through improvisation and chance. The lyrics were written by the vocalist in response to situations and people from his life… Christ, even the dire, manufactured pop music which was being mass-consumed these days sometimes still had a spark of originality. Maybe that would change? He wondered if, perhaps, in the not-too-distant future, music would be written and performed entirely by computers which had been programmed to create tunes which would tick all the right boxes and illicit the required emotional response from the listener? Was that what really scared him about the alien’s words? Was this the shape of things to come?
The things he’d heard reminded him of Brave New World, 1984, and other books he’d been forced to study at school. Bland, anodyne futures. Repellent and ugly. Everything he despised. A dystopia in a utopian disguise.
How dare that fucker think himself above us. Where’s their passion? Where’s their motivation. There’s got to be more to life than just living.
CHAPTER 17
‘I’m worried about you,’ Siobhan said, sitting down on the bed next to him. She’d come inside for more drinks. Tom had lost track of time. It was dark now but the conversation outside on the patio was still in full flow.
‘I’m okay,’ he said. ‘Sorry about earlier.’
‘It’s not me you need to apologise to.’
‘I know.’
‘Look, Rob’s taking him back in a little while. Come back outside, will you.’
She took Tom’s hand and led him out to the others, pausing only to pick up a tray of hot drinks she’d made. Tom sheepishly followed her. Rob and Jall’s conversation briefly stopped.
‘I was out of order earlier,’ Tom said to the alien. ‘Sorry I gave you such a hard time.’
‘It’s understandable,’ Jall replied. ‘You weren’t expecting me to come here. Maybe your brother should have checked first.’
‘No, it’s me. I’m sorry.’
‘Tom’s had a tough year,’ Siobhan explained.
‘I heard about your parents,’ the alien said. ‘That must have been difficult for you.’
‘You can say that again,’ Rob mumbled.
‘You see,’ Jall continued, ‘there’s not such an impossible gulf between us after all. My family back home must be feeling bereaved. In fact, I feel it myself. When we were drifting, before we found life on your planet, it looked for a while as if we’d have very little chance of surviving, never mind getting back home. Now we’ve more hope, but things are still uncertain. The thought of never seeing my wife, my children and the rest of my family again is too much to bear. What I’m saying, Tom, is that I think I understand your pain.’
*
Hours later, when the others were long gone and Tom and Siobhan lay together in bed, Siobhan leant across and stroked Tom’s hair.
‘I meant what I said earlier. I am worried about you.’
‘There’s no need to be. I’m fine.’
‘No you’re not.’
‘Yes I am.’
‘So what was all that about tonight then? You were downright rude to Jall. Honest, Tom, the poor guy’s stranded millions of miles from home, separated from everything and everyone he cares about, and you were laying into him. It was completely unjustified. It was embarrassing.’
Tom struggled to answer. He was thankful of the dark so he could avoid eye contact.
‘I just have a hard time swallowing some of the things I hear about the aliens, that’s all.’
‘Is that all? You’re starting to sound like a bigot. I think there’s more to it.’
‘Like what?’
‘There’s all that stuff with your parents for starters, and—’
‘Mum and Dad have got nothing to do with it. They’re gone and I’ve accepted that and—’
‘—and I don’t think you have. I think you’ve just run away from it all.’
‘How can you say that? What else am I supposed to do? The inquests have been completed, their estates have been settled… there’s nothing left to run away from.’
‘Yes there is. Bloody hell, Tom, you can be so blinkered at times. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you came to Thatcham because you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time, but I think you’ve left a lot of unfinished business behind.’
‘You’re wrong.’
‘I think you should go back.
You should take me. Show me the place where you used to live and where you worked. Introduce me to some of the friends you left behind.’
‘You wouldn’t like them…’
‘Let me make that decision, sweetheart. I think there’s a lot you’re not dealing with here, and it’s starting to show itself as anger.’
‘I’m not angry.’
‘You were tonight.’
‘I wasn’t, I was frustrated. There’s a difference between being angry and being frustrated…’
‘Not from where I was sitting. Listen, I’m not saying you shouldn’t be angry, I just think you need to try and deal with it better. More constructively. Stop aiming it at the aliens.’
Another silence. Tom didn’t know what to say. Was she right? He wished she’d go to sleep. He didn’t want to think about it tonight.
‘You okay?’ she asked after waiting too long for him to say something.
‘I’m okay.’
‘Are you going to talk to me?’
‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Will you take me to Birmingham? Let me have a look at who you used to be.’
Tom thought he didn’t have any option. He couldn’t think of a good enough reason not to. ‘I suppose. Can’t promise it’ll be very exciting.’
‘Let me decide that. I’m not looking for excitement, I just want you to be okay. Anyway, you might be surprised. You might want to go back there permanently.’
‘I doubt it.’
‘You might. The world’s changing, Tom. You never know what’s around the corner these days.’
‘The world’s always changing. It changes every day. Always has been, always will be.’
‘Yes but the pace of change is different now and if anything it’s going to get even faster.’
‘Bloody hell, stop patronising me.’
‘Then stop being so touchy. I just think you need to open up some more. Give these people a chance. You’re a bloody pessimist, and it’s doing my head in. You’re right, all the things we’re hearing do sound incredible and yes, a lot of it is hard to believe, but we have to try. You’ve said yourself, the human race is on a downward spiral and people are pre-programmed to fuck up and fight with each other, but there’s no reason why we can’t change the programming, is there? Not now they’ve shown us how.’
‘Why does everyone think they’re bloody philosophers these days,’ he grumbled unhelpfully, turning onto his side. She pulled him over onto his back again.
‘Maybe it’s because we’ve all been given an incredible opportunity,’ she said. ‘This is our chance to turn everything around and make something of ourselves. They said on the news we’ve reached a pivotal moment in history, and we’re right at the centre of it all, Tom, you and me. I don’t want you to miss out and get left behind. You’ve got to get over this anti-alien mind-set because it’s not doing anyone any good. Accept them for who and what they are.’
PART III – ACCEPTANCE
CHAPTER 18
Almost three weeks passed before Tom finally reneged and agreed to take Siobhan to where he’d lived before breaking away and settling down in Thatcham. She’d taken a day off mid-week, her first day’s holiday since the end of summer. It was autumn now. All the greens had turned to reds and browns.
Siobhan seemed genuinely excited. ‘I’ve never been to Birmingham before.’
‘Hope you’re not disappointed.’
‘Oh, I won’t be. I’m easily pleased.’
The journey took the best part of two hours. They talked intermittently, but neither felt the need to chatter constantly. Tom thought that was a good thing. He remembered his mum telling him it was a sign of being relaxed in someone’s company not to have to fill every moment of silence with unnecessary noise. Being close to someone didn’t just mean talking to them, she used to say. He thought that was ironic, because Dad used to complain that she never shut up.
The traffic on the motorway increased in volume and decreased in speed as they approached the city. Tom felt a strange fluttering in his stomach, an unexpected attack of nerves. He didn’t know what he had to be scared about; they were only going to be here for a few hours, if that, and these were all places he’d been to countless times before. It had been more than six months since he’d last been here. He’d rather have left it a little longer before coming back.
They drove right into the city centre. The amount of traffic took Tom by surprise initially. It seemed busier than he remembered, but he accepted that was probably because he’d had half a year living in a village where, until the aliens had arrived, it had been unusual to see more than a handful of cars at any one time.
They parked at the Bullring, a large, distinctive-looking shopping mall. At one end of the development, the bulbous, futuristic-looking building nestled up alongside St Martin’s Church, a place with roots traceable back hundreds of years. Even now it was a startling contrast of old meets new. Siobhan’s small-town upbringing was immediately apparent.
‘Wow,’ she said, mouth hanging open. ‘Fancy, isn’t it?’
‘Didn’t think you’d be that impressed. You’ve seen aliens now. Your imagination knows no earthly bounds.’
‘Don’t take the piss,’ she grumbled as they disappeared down into the underground car park.
‘I wasn’t.’
*
‘Funny how it’s just like all the other malls inside, isn’t it?’ Siobhan said as they wandered through the crowded shopping centre. She was right, of course. No matter how visually striking the building appeared from the outside, once you were in it looked much the same as every other shopping centre built in the last fifteen years. The same shops, the same décor, the same layout to an extent, all of it carefully designed either to maximise the experience for the shopper or generate the most profit, depending on your perspective.
‘Any shops you want to go to?’
‘Nothing in particular,’ she replied, ‘but you know me and shops.’
Tom wasn’t one for stereotyping, but as far as shopping was concerned, he thought it amusing how men and women all too easily slipped into their expected roles. When he needed something, he’d go to a shop he knew sold the item, and then buy it. Even better, he’d get it online. Siobhan, on the other hand, liked to browse and compare endlessly before spending a single penny.
She started down the familiar route, spending an age looking at shoes she didn’t really need, before checking herself and remembering why they’d come here.
‘Sorry, Tom,’ she said unexpectedly. ‘This is your day. We’re not here to go shopping.’
‘It’s okay,’ he replied. ‘We’ve got plenty of time.’
She smiled. ‘You’ll regret saying that! Mind if I just have a look here?’ She gestured towards another boutique. ‘Last one, I promise.’
‘You carry on,’ he said. ‘Mind if I don’t come in? I’ll meet you out here somewhere.’
She tenderly squeezed his hand, then disappeared into the shop. He looked around for inspiration, wondering if there was something nearby which might distract him for a while and stop him thinking about where he was and why he was here. There were a few stores he used, but nothing which really grabbed him. He didn’t want any clothes, wasn’t in the mood for watching films, hadn’t read any books for a while, had all but given up on games… He ambled a short distance further into the mall, cutting through the early lunchtime crowds, thinking about finding somewhere to eat once Siobhan had finished shopping. It was then that he noticed the crowd up ahead, in a space near the middle of the mall usually reserved for promotional displays. Semi-interested, Tom walked towards it. He’d seen all kinds of crap here in the years he’d worked in the city, from Barbie to Mario and everything in between – underpaid students in fancy dress costumes, doing all they could to attract the attention of passing kids, demonstrating the latest game, console, or whatever the current trend was.
But this was different.
As he approached, he saw an alien standi
ng on a plinth. It was such a damn good likeness, that it was only when he’d got to within a couple of metres that he realised it was a dummy. It looked like Jall, perfectly proportioned and uncannily life-like.
‘Anything I can help you with,’ a smartly-dressed woman said, taking him by surprise.
‘No. No, thanks, I’m fine.’
She smiled and offered him a brochure which he took without thinking. He walked further into the crowded area, and followed the general flow of the people around him. There was a number of large display units, some of them with screens built in, all of them providing information on certain aspects of the aliens. More specifically, he realised, it was information about getting along with aliens and the finer points of alien-human etiquette. It was strangely fascinating and, he had to admit, very well put together. The details were genuinely useful, if a little unnecessary in his opinion. He glanced at the brochure he’d been given which was similarly comprehensive.
‘Here you are,’ Siobhan said, grabbing his arm. ‘Couldn’t find you. What’s all this?’
He gave her the brochure. ‘I forget, most people here probably haven’t seen an alien close-up.’
‘I was thinking that earlier. Goes to show how lucky we are in comparison, living in Thatcham. Bloody hell, Tom, your brother’s best friend is one of them!’
‘Bit over the top though, isn’t it?’
‘Do you think? Personally, I think it’s fantastic. The more information that’s available, the better. It’s when we stop educating people about all of this that we’ll start hitting problems.’
‘I still think it’s a bit much.’
Siobhan frowned at him. ‘We’ve talked about this, Tom. You’ve got to ease up on the anti-alien sentiment.’
‘And I keep telling you, I’m not anti-alien, I just—’
‘I know what you keep telling me, but you’re saying one thing and doing another. People will get the wrong impression.’
*
They left the Bullring after another hour. Tom saw an old work colleague in the crowds, and decided that enough was enough. He wanted out before he was recognised.
