by Moody, David
‘Is it?’ He couldn’t understand what was so special about it. In fact, the more he looked at it, the less sense it made. Since when did supermarkets display this kind of unhealthy, artificial crap alongside the fruit and vegetables? They were usually at opposite ends of the store.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It’s good that they’re thinking of everyone.’
‘Are they?’
‘Bloody hell, keep up, Tom!’ She picked up a tub of sickly sweet honeycomb. ‘Jall was saying he can get through a couple of tubs of this stuff in a day. And he stays so thin! It’s not fair. You know me, I only have to look at this kind of stuff and I put weight on.’
Tom walked on, keen to fill their trolley with stuff they needed, not waste time looking at what they didn’t. Thankfully the store was relatively quiet. Siobhan’s late finish meant they’d missed the bulk of people who shopped on the way home from work, and the school-related traffic was long gone too. Once done, Tom loaded their shopping onto the conveyor and watched as the glassy-eyed checkout operator scanned it all through. He handed her his bank card.
‘Can’t use that,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘Can’t use that at this till. There’s a sign.’ She pointed to a large sign hanging above her station, blowing slightly in the breeze from the air conditioning. Tom looked up.
‘Biometric payments only. What’s all that about? I’ve been coming here and using the same card for months. What’s the problem?’
‘It’s a trial. We’re a trial store. This is a trial till.’
‘Well no one told me.’
‘Like I said, there’s a sign,’ she repeated, pointing up.
‘This is a joke. What the hell’s a biometric payment anyway?’
‘If you want to use that card you’ll have to go to another till.’
‘But I’ve unpacked all our stuff now.’
‘You could re-pack it.’
‘Or you could just take my payment. This is ridiculous. Is there a manager here I can talk to?’
Siobhan swapped places with him, conscious there were people waiting. ‘Leave it, Tom. I’ll get it,’ she said, and she put her thumb on a finger pad where the card reader used to be. Tom continued bagging up their food. ‘Did you not get a letter from the bank?’ she asked.
‘I get loads of letters from the bank. Most of them are crap and I bin them. Just marketing junk.’
‘Don’t you think it’d be a good idea to read them from time to time?’
‘I don’t know,’ he grumbled, picking up their bags. ‘They’re only ever trying to sell me something or get me to invest money I haven’t got with them.’
‘Or they might be telling you about the new payment system they’re trialling.’
‘I haven’t heard anything about it.’
She put the last bag in the trolley and started back towards the car. ‘Well you should have. It’s been all over the TV. They’re trialling it here first because we’ve got a relatively high proportion of visitors. Honestly, Tom, that was embarrassing.’
‘What have aliens got to do with it?’
‘Jesus, you really haven’t been paying attention. It’s based on their tech. I mean, we’ve had this kind of stuff for years, but they’ve helped the banks take it to another level. It makes payment processing more efficient, cuts down the risk of fraud.’
‘So what are you saying? That your thumb is now linked to your current account?’
‘Something like that. Yours would be too if you’d read the letter like everyone else.’
✽✽✽
Tom cooked their meal in the small kitchen of Siobhan’s one-bedroom flat. It was a decent enough place – she had half the ground floor of a large, Victorian house which had been converted into four apartments. The rent was reasonable, and the surrounding area was pleasant enough. Siobhan kept the place pristine and had been there long enough to make her mark, tastefully decorating the limited space and making it her own. But Tom had been wondering for a while now if it was time for them to reconsider their living arrangements.
‘Are you coping with the rent on this place?’ he asked clumsily as they ate in front of the TV.
‘Of course I am,’ she said, surprised by his question. ‘Why do you ask? I’ve been here almost three years.’
‘I was just thinking, it’s a lot to be paying out each month.’
‘Are you offering to pay my rent for me?’
‘No, I was just wondering if it was time to get rid of the flat, that’s all. We’ve been together more than six months and...’
‘I like my space,’ she said quickly. The speed of her answer took him by surprise. Hurt him.
‘Oh, okay. It’s just that you spend a lot of time at mine, and I was thinking about all that cash you’re paying out each month.’
‘Tom, are you trying to help me save money or are you asking me to move in with you?’
‘Both,’ he said, sounding unsure. ‘Actually, I’m asking you to move in with me. Or at least think about it.’
Siobhan put down her knife and fork. She looked across at him and smiled. ‘That’s really sweet.’
‘Sweet? Is it?’
‘Yes.’
‘So what do you think?’
‘I’m not sure.’
Tom’s heart sank. Frantic thoughts rushed through his mind. Have I read too much into this relationship? Does she mean more to me than I mean to her? Thank God I didn’t ask her to marry me...
‘Why?’
‘Two reasons,’ she explained, ‘one is a practical reason, both are equally valid. First, I’m halfway through a twelve month tenancy. I signed an extension just after we started seeing each other, remember?’
‘I remember,’ he said. He’d forgotten.
‘Second,’ she began, pausing to choose her words carefully, ‘I want this to be something we’re both completely sure about.’
‘I’m sure.’
‘Are you?’
‘Yes,’ he answered, beginning to doubt himself. ‘I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I wasn’t.’
‘It’s just that you’ve not been yourself these last few weeks. I think you’ve got a lot going on in that head of yours, and until you sort it all out, I don’t think you’ll be able to know what it is you really want.’
‘I already know that. I want you.’
‘I’m not talking about sex.’
‘Neither am I.’
‘I’m talking about commitment and long term plans. I feel like you’re on the rebound from your past, and I don’t want to make any decisions about what I’m going to do with my life until I’m completely sure you want me to be a part of yours.’
‘But...’
‘Tommy, sweetheart, I’m not saying no. I already know that I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I just want you to be sure that this is the life you want before we both take that leap.’
20
Friday night. The Badger’s Sett. Punter levels in the pub had reduced to almost normal. Tom was relieved. Drinking sessions were becoming much more pleasurable again.
‘Business good, John?’ he asked.
‘Mustn’t grumble,’ the landlord replied as he pulled Tom’s pint. ‘To be honest, I made so much over these last couple of months, it wouldn’t matter if no one else came in here for the rest of the year. I’d still be quids in.’
‘I’ll be here,’ Tom smirked, ‘don’t you worry.’
‘I knew you wouldn’t let me down,’ John laughed.
Tom returned to the others. Siobhan and James were waiting for him, Rob was due shortly.
‘Work okay, James?’ Tom asked, regretting his words the moment he’d spoken them.
‘No.’
‘Ah right,’ he said, supping his pint and hoping that would be the end of it.
‘Got me on a bloody disciplinary now, haven’t they.’
‘Disciplinary,’ Siobhan said, ‘what for?’
‘Insubordination.’
‘Tho
ught that was just if you were in the army,’ Tom said. ‘What did you do?’
‘You see, that’s what really pisses me off. You’ve already assumed I’m guilty. What chance have I got if my own mates turn on me like that?’
‘I haven’t turned on you,’ Tom said. ‘I just asked what happened. All right, I’ll rephrase it. What have they alleged you’ve done?’
‘Oh, I did it all right,’ he replied, barely concealing a self-satisfied smirk. ‘I told Sachs he was out of his fucking tree.’
‘You didn’t,’ Siobhan gasped. ‘Your boss?’
‘I did. Right in the middle of a bloody staff meeting. Well, it was his own fault. He pushed me too far.’
‘You idiot,’ she said.
‘Couldn’t help myself. There’s only so much I can take. I’d had enough.’
‘But your boss! And with all those witnesses. You divot. What did Steph say?’
‘Haven’t told her and I don’t intend to. I’ll probably just get my wrist slapped.’
‘I hope so for your sakes.’
‘Well, the hearing’s on Tuesday morning, so if I come knocking on your door looking for a job on Tuesday afternoon, Siobhan, you’ll know things didn’t go well.’
She looked over at Tom and shook her head in disbelief. James was about to speak again when, to the others’ relief, the pub door opened and distracted him. Rob came inside, followed by Jall.
‘Here they come,’ James said. ‘Glad I’m not getting the next round in. He drinks like a fish, that boy.’
‘Who, Rob?’
‘No, Jall. They all do. They can certainly take their beer.’
Rob and Jall got their drinks at the bar then joined the others. James was right; the alien had two pints to everyone else’s one. And two bars of chocolate.
‘Evening,’ Rob said, pulling up a chair next to Tom.
‘Everyone all right?’ Jall asked, sitting down across the table. Tom watched him, and he couldn’t help but think how much the alien had already changed in the short time he’d known him. It was a given that the Earth and its indigenous population would have been affected by the arrival of the extra-terrestrials, and that had certainly proved to be the case. He’d seen footage of fields of crops being grown in the desert, for example, and a test spaceship which had been launched last week that looked like one of the old, decommissioned space shuttles, redesigned by alien eyes. But Tom hadn’t counted on how the aliens too would have been altered by the experience of being here. He remembered the night he’d first met Jall, when they’d sat out on the patio and Tom had given him hell about various aspects of the visitors’ lifestyles. He’d seemed cold and distant that night, understandably guarded. Now that guard had most definitely been dropped. He leaned back in his chair, overlong legs crossed casually, wearing a bizarre amalgam of alien and human-style clothes. Maybe they were selling them in the shops now, next to the displays of alien preferred food. For a moment he was gone, daydreaming about seeing new signs in department stores: menswear, womenswear, childrenswear, alienswear...
‘Did you hear that?’ Siobhan asked, nudging him.
‘No, sorry. Did I hear what?’
Rob answered. ‘The stuff Jall’s been doing at the uni today. It’s incredible.’
‘Go on.’
Rob looked at Jall, then continued. ‘The staff there have been using some of Jall’s lot’s medical tech, and the results have been remarkable. You tell him, Jall.’
‘A while back,’ the alien began, ‘we made a series of breakthroughs which allowed us to work on the individual components of any molecule at any level. I won’t bore you with the detail...’
‘But it means you can cure cancer and turn coal into gold,’ Rob interrupted.
Jall nodded and finished his first pint. ‘Pretty much.’
‘So what are you saying, that you can turn anything into anything?’ Tom asked.
‘Not quite,’ the alien replied, ‘but the potential’s there.’
‘And that’s what they were doing in the medical centre today,’ Rob added. ‘Changing cancer cells back to healthy cells again. Oh, and they’ve already been fixing broken bones and damaged nerves.’
‘We have to be cautious,’ Jall said. ‘It might be that there are complications when adapting our processes to humans. That’s why we’re only working on people with terminal illnesses, and physical injuries that aren’t otherwise going to get any better.’
‘But that’s not the best bit,’ Rob continued. ‘You’ll never believe this. He took me into the lab this afternoon. They’re only growing someone a new fucking arm! It’s amazing. There’s this kid who lost his arm in a bomb blast in Afghan or somewhere, and they’re growing him a new arm!’
Even Tom had to admit that was impressive.
‘The implications are vast,’ Siobhan said. ‘People might never get sick again.’
Tom thought about what she’d just said, but resisted the temptation to respond, worried that she’d see any questioning as a thinly veiled attack on the aliens. That was never his intention, but he knew that was how he’d probably come across. Tom used to bullshit for a living, but since leaving the corporate world he’d definitely lost his touch. Since coming to Thatcham he’d found it increasingly difficult to be anything but completely honest, and that wasn’t always for the best.
‘Good technology gets smaller and smaller, and once you can manipulate things at the most minute level,’ Jall continued to explain to his enthralled audience, ‘you start to look at the universe in a whole new way. Anything becomes possible.’
‘It’s a whole sea-change,’ Rob said. ‘You wouldn’t believe the guys in the labs, they’re going crazy for this stuff. It’s a fundamental shift.’
‘We were talking earlier,’ Jall continued. ‘One of our colleagues said it felt like the invention of the silicon chip and the development of the microprocessor.’
‘How so?’ Tom asked.
‘Think about it... you start by using those discoveries to create computers. Fast forward twenty or thirty years, and you have the descendants of those computers everywhere, affecting every aspect of your lives. Transport, communication, entertainment, healthcare...’
Rob felt obliged to state the obvious, more for James’ benefit than anyone else. ‘So one major discovery, or set of discoveries, has almost infinite repercussions.’
‘Like changing cancer cells back into healthy cells again?’ Siobhan asked.
‘Exactly,’ Jall said. ‘Back home we’ve long since stopped thinking about medicinal care purely in terms of the individual parts of the body. We’re more concerned with the individual parts which make the individual parts, which make the individual parts. Does that make sense? I remember saying to you a while back, Tom, every problem can be reduced to a yes or no decision if you drill down far enough.’
‘So what are you really saying?’ Tom asked. ‘Are you saying you can change everything?’
‘Theoretically, yes. But being able to do something doesn’t necessarily mean you have to do it.’
‘This is getting too heavy for a Friday night booze-up,’ James said, putting down an empty glass and getting up to go to the bar. ‘I can’t keep up with it all.’
The others were distracted by his interruption. Tom wasn’t. ‘How many people would have that kind of power and not use it?’
‘You’re thinking in human terms again.’
‘They’re the only terms I know.’
‘We’re different. Very different.’
‘So why do you die?’
‘Oh, don’t start this again,’ Siobhan groaned.
Tom squeezed her hand. ‘I’m not. Honestly, I don’t want to pick a fight. I just want to understand.’
‘We die because it’s all part of the plan. There has to be progression. We can’t keep bringing new life into the world and not let the old lives go. It wouldn’t be right. We still age.’
‘But you could sort that little problem out if you wanted to.’
<
br /> ‘Theoretically we could, but there are incredibly strict ethics codes which control such things.’
James was back with more beer. ‘Drink, chill out, stop talking bollocks,’ he ordered.
21
More than two months had passed since the aliens had arrived. The days were shorter and the nights much colder and longer now. The sun seemed to rarely show its face, hidden almost permanently behind a layer of heavy grey cloud. Dense fogs frequently blew in off the sea, often so impenetrable that Tom could barely see anything from the windows of his home. Sometimes it was easy to believe that the village and everything else had completely disappeared, leaving just the bungalow on the hill.
But it wasn’t just the physical appearance of the world which had continued to change. The influence of the aliens was far reaching, so much so that it was difficult now to remember what life had been like before they’d arrived. The visitors seemed to have skewed all perspectives. On one hand, the Earth now felt like just one small speck of dust amongst billions: fragile and insignificant. On the other, the aliens appeared to be giving the human race a ‘bunk up’, their influence having substantially increased mankind’s reach and ambition. Tom thought it felt as if the physical size of the human race had been diminished, but at the same time the volume of its collective voice had been cranked up to previously unheard levels.
Tom found it easier to accept the aliens now that he could see tangible benefits starting to appear. Last week, the first manned expedition to Mars had been announced. It was due to launch mid-April. Gone were the days when years of planning, selection, research and training were necessary. The farmers in the former deserts were preparing to harvest their crops, grown in previously lifeless dustbowls. Just last week a massive earthquake in the Pacific Ocean had, with alien help, been predicted, then prevented. Had they not been here, thousands of people, maybe even tens or hundreds of thousands, would have lost their lives or at the very least their homes as a result of the quake and subsequent tsunami and aftershocks.
In the short time they’d been here, the aliens had changed the face of the planet at a faster rate than humans had ever managed. They never gave the impression of taking over or preaching, rather they were careful to offer their help when appropriate and point out things which could be done better, or things which were being done wrong.
