The Tomorrow Tower: Nine Science Fiction Short Stories

by John Moralee

  An expert witness psychologist confirmed that I had committed matricide during a psychotic episode, and ballistics experts confirmed I had pulled the trigger for the fatal shot. The defence lawyer did not object even once to the authenticity of the LAPD data.

  I became so attuned to the Rehab look - no matter how subtle the programming - that I could tell ten out of the twelve jurors were Rehabs, and so was the defence lawyer.

  I was sentenced to Rehab.

  As I was taken away, the court was momentarily interrupted by a red-faced clerk bursting through the doors.

  “The President’s been shot! The President’s been shot!” Proceedings stopped and the judge asked for details. Apparently, some crazy veteran had walked right up to the president and shot him in the head - one, two - dead. A professional kill. The killer had used the crowd to escape, but had shouted one word as he fired.

  Mikey.

  Barney

  “I think we need an alien for Lee and Angela,” Karen said, when the twins started crying for the fourth time that night.

  Michael muttered something in his sleep.

  Karen was tired. She had never expected motherhood to be so exhausting. Why couldn’t their babies sleep at night, like normal people? But, no, they had to cry and cry all day and night, turning their parents into quivering wrecks. She got up and went to the twins’ room. Their screams were like needles entering her head, jab-jab-jabbing her with a growing headache. Though the babies were cute and she loved them more than life itself, she just wished that she could have a break from their ceaseless demands. She settled them down with some breast milk, then crawled back into bed beside her husband. Michael was snoring gently. Karen nudged him in the back, and he turned over, too tired to open his eyes.

  “Honey,” she said, “did you hear what I said about an alien?”

  “Uh-huh,” he mumbled. “An alien ... but why?”

  “This is the tenth time this week we’ve been woken up at four,” she said. “The tenth time!”

  “There are only seven days in a week so that technically is not acc-”

  “Shut up, Mike. You’re not in the courtroom now. Open your eyes, damn you. Talk to me.”

  Michael looked at her. His eyes were ringed with shadows, the corneas the colour of cherries. “I’m listening, I really am.”

  “We need a Gabashi.”

  “I don’t trust the Gabashi,” Michael said. “I mean, what do we know about them? They say they come from some distant planet that was wiped out by a supernova? How likely is that?”

  “We know they care about human beings. They’re a peaceful race that loves to help younger races. They love children. I’m sure we could trust one just to look after the kids until they grow out of diapers.”

  “I dunno, sweetie.”

  He called her sweetie when he was being condescending.

  “Mike, I can’t become a resident if I keep falling asleep standing up. I’m dead tired every day.” She saw him drifting off. She shook him awake. “Honey, you said yourself you lost the Halliman case because you couldn’t think straight. That’s why we need help. The Gabashi will change diapers, feed them, give them hugs, protect them.”

  “I dunno.” He sat up, scratching his chest. “I don’t like the idea of having strange aliens in the house.”

  Karen reached over to the bedside dresser. She opened the top drawer and pulled out her iPad. She showed him copy of the Time article. “This is a great article about them.”

  “I can’t focus this early, babe. Can’t you summarise?”

  “It says ‘The Gabashi make perfect nannies. They are a peaceful race that want to be integrated into our society.’ See? They want to help us! It’s sad really. They’ve been alone in space for millions of years. They’re lonely. We have to give them a chance, Mike. You’re not going tell me you’re xenophobic?”

  “The Gabashi are overgrown teddy bears, if you ask me.”

  “Mike! We have our careers and social lives to think about. We need rest. We’re not getting any.” As if to prove her point, the twins started crying again. “Besides, you’re not going to become a partner if you don’t get some sleep.”

  “True.”

  “The Gabashi have never harmed anyone or anything since they landed on Earth. Heck, they allowed us access to their mothership to prove they had no secret weapons. They wouldn’t dare hurt a human being because we’d kick their butts.”

  “That’s true,” he admitted. He’d seen Independence Day and Men in Black; they would win a war with any alien critters, no matter how dangerous. “But I don’t like the idea of a nanny per se.”

  “The Gabashi are natural empaths, which means they can sense if Lee and Angela are upset and do something about it immediately. What kid wouldn’t want an intelligent cuddly bear looking after them?”

  “I bet they charge a fortune.”

  “No, no, no. That’s the amazing thing. The Gabashi don’t need money.”

  “Come on, everyone needs money. Even aliens.”

  “They get pleasure out of being nice. Everyone I know who has kids is getting one.”

  “Oh, so you have been talking about this?”

  “Sarah and Harry say the aliens take the stress off you. They’ll even go shopping, clean up ... you name it.”

  “It’d be another mouth to feed.”

  “No - their digestive systems are so advanced they eat garbage and lick the dust off the furniture. We wouldn’t even have to buy food for it.”

  “You really want this, don’t you?”

  “Only if you do.”

  She snuggled up to him, using all her feminine wiles.

  “Okay,” Michael said, sighing, “but let’s not get too enthusiastic. I don’t trust anything that does hard work for pleasure. If it does anything to hurt the kids it’s out of here, agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  *

  They spent a couple of weeks studying the files on the Gabashi. Since all Gabashi were telepaths who shared their knowledge among their own kind, there wasn’t much to choose between them except their looks. Some were cute, some really cute, and some were adorably cute. Karen and Michael finally selected a candidate out of the billion Gabashi refugees just because his name caught their attention: Barney the Bear. The aliens liked childish Earth names, which Karen found endearing. She already liked Barney before she’d met him.

  Even so, Karen wanted to receive her first impression of the alien before it arrived home, in case it wasn’t suitable. They left the kids with her mom and dad, then drove across the States to Nevada, where the mothership had landed at White Sands. Michael parked their Toyota Land Cruiser in the shadow of the alien ship, hovering over the desert.

  There was something awe-inspiring about the Gabashi mothership; it was so huge that it blocked the sun for hundred of miles. It was a pyramid the size of a mountain. It was also furry, like Gabashi skin. The mothership was well-guarded by Earth security forces, though the precautions were to keep alien-haters out as much as the aliens in. A US army sergeant checked their identities and the newly issued green card for Barney, then let them inside the landing zone.

  Among several thousand Gabashi outside the entrance hatch, milling about in the sunlight, Barney was waiting. He was a six-foot-tall Gabashi. The alien looked like a teddy bear with soft brown fur, except for its large ears, which were creamy white, shaped like maple leaves. Its pure blue eyes blinked in the sunlight as it waddled towards them, offering its paw to Karen.

  “Call me Barney,” the alien said, in a cartoon voice.

  “Call me Karen,” she said.

  “Nice to meet you, Karen.”

  Barney bowed and kissed her hand. Karen was surprised how warm and silky its paw felt. She noted that it didn’t have claws. It didn’t feel as if there were any bones in it either - just a spongy material inside, like stuffing or foam. Like a real toy animal. Then Barney released her hand and smiled at Michael. “Nice to meet you, Michael.”

&nbs
p; “Thanks,” Michael said, shaking hands. But he still felt uncomfortable inviting a stranger into their home. What if it was a baby-eating psycho?

  “You’re worried I’m dangerous,” Barney said.

  “I’m -”

  “You’ve forgotten I can read your mood. Don’t worry, Michael. I can assure you my race have never ever used violence. We could never hurt a thing. It’s a genetic blessing. Before the supernova forced us to look for a new home, we lived in harmony with nature. The Gabashi are pacifists. All our arguments are settled through our telepathic union by discussion and reasoning. We are all part of the same mind, you see. To us, fighting would be like cutting off your nose to spite your face. That’s a human expression I believe you use.”

  “You speak perfect English,” Karen said.

  “We learn fast,” Barney replied. “Our scholars have studied your languages, and now we all know the same information thanks to our -”

  “Telepathic link?”

  “Exactly. My, Karen, you do have quite a strong intuitive sense yourself.” Barney smiled, revealing a red tongue that looked like a piece of velvet. “I’d love you see your beautiful children, please. I’m so looking forward to be a part of the family. Is that your lovely car?”

  “It is.”

  “You have great taste. It is a safe and yet comfortable model.”

  Michael didn’t like this alien bear. It was too smooth and friendly for his liking. It wasn’t natural to be so ... so polite. But he said nothing as they walked to the car. But he was worried.

  *

  Barney moved into the spare bedroom. Karen was soon thinking of “it” as a “he”. He didn’t bring any personal items because the Gabashi didn’t need anything of a material nature. Karen was amazed to learn that he didn’t sleep at all, for the world he had come from did not spin, so he did not need a sleep cycle. The alien was always on call for the babies, night or day. He was wonderful.

  When Barney wasn’t busy with the children, he would dust or cook dinner, never complaining, never tiring. He seemed to take pleasure in making other people happy.

  Still, Michael kept a close eye on their new child-minder, making sure Barney treated the twins right. He installed a spy camera in the twins’ bedroom without telling Karen. After a week he was satisfied Barney wasn’t going to hurt the babies; Barney was so caring and loving towards their children it made Michael feel guilty for suspecting the worst. He wasn’t a baby-eating psycho. There really was such a thing as a peaceful race. Michael removed the camera during the weekend, returning it to the security company knowing Lee and Angela were in the best of hands while he and Karen worked.

  With Barney at home, Michael could concentrate on his career. As an associate in the second largest law firm in the Midwest, he was desperate to impress his bosses with hundred-hour weeks, more now he was free to work longer. And when he got home Barney would be there with a warm meal and a foot massage.

  Karen was also climbing the career ladder at the hospital, a rising star in the surgical team. She was hoping to become a leading neurosurgeon. Thanks to Barney, she could also focus on her job and have a family to come home to at night and the weekends.

  Though they’d intended on having a Gabashi nanny for just a few months, there seemed no reason to send him back after the trial period. Barney was one of the family. He was like two sets of caring grandparents rolled into one body.

  After two years Michael got his junior partnership; Karen was writing articles for the top medical journals. Barney cared for the children, showed them how to play games, told them stories, taught them how to read and write and do arithmetic.

  Michael rarely got to see them more than a few hours each day, but he was happy as long as the kids were happy. And they were happy.

  Karen had a third child, Fiona, reassured that Barney could look after Fiona and it wouldn’t interrupt her flourishing career. Most families were having more babies now the pressure to be parents and workers had been reduced. The Gabashi had freed them.

  Karen knew their kids would receive a good education because the Gabashi started teaching in the schools, and she knew they would be safe on the streets because the Gabashi started policing the streets. The Gabashi were the perfect police: they never used violence to apprehend a felon, but merely surrounded them until human officers arrived. Even if a criminal had a gun or knife it would not harm a Gabashi, for the cute aliens had no solid organs, not even a centralised brain. If you struck a Gabashi it was like fighting a pillow. If you cut a Gabashi it did not bleed, but a white foam would come out. If you shot a Gabashi the bullet would be absorbed by their rubbery body and heal over in minutes. The only weapon that would really hurt a Gabashi was a flame-thrower, but even then that would only destroy a single body, and that Gabashi’s mind would be saved by its friends. To the Gabashi, there was no permanent death. Only love.

  Michael rose in the firm, acquiring more and more important cases. He was soon bringing in over a half million dollars a year for the firm, looking to become a senior partner. He sometimes wished he spent more time with the kids, but then he would have to give up his responsibilities in the firm. He wanted his name on the entrance plaque to the building. He could not relax until he had achieved that goal.

  And Karen needed to win the Beckman Award, a top award for neurosurgery. She worked harder and harder at achieving a breakthrough.

  It seemed like that in no time at all Lee and Angela were teenagers. It was then Michael, with his career fully established, realised that he hadn’t spent a lot of time with them growing up. Barney had taken Lee to his little league games. Barney had shown Lee how to throw a basketball. Barney had told Angela about periods.

  Michael talked with Karen about his concerns, but she was working hard at her research, pioneering radical brain surgery for CJD victims. She was away in Europe for most of the year, collaborating with scientists. Karen couldn’t understand what he was complaining about: Barney wasn’t substituting him, she said, but helping him. He wouldn’t be earning a million a year without Barney’s help, would he? No. He would be a lowly associate, if that. All of which was true, but it didn’t make him feel better. He didn’t even know what Lee and Angela and Fiona’s hobbies were these days. He felt like a stranger in his own home. When he did get the kids to talk to him, all they seemed to talk about was Barney-this and Barney-that.

  Michael felt as though he were the only person in the world who felt as if he’d lost something.

  Then one day Karen was shocked to discover that Angela had a boyfriend called Tony, a boy she had never met. Tony was five years older than Angela. He was also a biker. Karen confronted her daughter.

  “I think you’re too young to be seeing a boy that old,” Karen said.

  “Mum, I’m fourteen. Barney says I can do what I want as long as I play safe.”

  “What? Barney said that?”

  “Yes, and he bought me protection, if I want to ... you know. Have sex.”

  Karen couldn’t believe it. A fourteen-year old had no business seeing a nineteen-year old. She confronted Barney as the alien was licking the dining room carpet clean. “Barney, have you been giving my daughter advice about sex?”

  “Yes,” Barney said, smiling his ingratiating smile. “I haven’t offended you, have I? I thought you wanted her to know the facts of life.”

  “I did, but -”

  “She has matured into a young woman, Karen. I was only making sure she was prepared for all circumstances.”

  That was reasonable, but -

  “You should have told her she is too young.”

  “I have found that telling Angela something like that often results in her rebelling. By not making an issue out of it, she can make an informed decision whether she has sexual intercourse with Tony, or not. As she has pointed out to me, she is the same age as Juliet in Shakespeare’s play. I believe it is her decision, not yours.”

  “Who gave you the authority to tell Angela that?”

&nbs
p; “Why, I believe you did, Karen.”

  The most galling this was he was right. She had. But now Barney was usurping her authority as a parent. “I want you out of here right now.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You can’t stay here any longer. Get packed and go.”

  “I have nothing to pack, Karen. But I will leave immediately if that is your wish?”

  “Go,” she said.

  Barney left.

  As soon as the kids found out Barney had gone the house became a war zone. None would talk to Karen or Michael, who backed her view; they treated them as pariahs. The kids wouldn’t eat the food they cooked because it wasn’t as good as Barney’s. They wouldn’t listen to advice. They came back from school learning things from their Gabashi teachers Karen and Michael didn’t think they were ready for. There seemed to be no moral values being taught except “have fun, and the rest will take care of itself.”

  Angela stormed out one day to live with Tony. Then Michael caught Lee with a stash of weed which a psychology teacher had encouraged him to try. A Gabashi teacher.

  Karen and Michael’s family was falling apart, and both their careers were suffering as a consequence. Michael’s bosses needed him to work harder, but he couldn’t, not with his domestic life in tatters. Karen could not come back from Europe, not during her seminar, so it was entirely up to him. But the kids resented him, hated him, refused to do anything he said. He employed six successive human housekeepers in an attempt at sorting out the problem, but they all quit after a couple of days. The kids wanted Barney.

  Barney. Barney. Barney.

  It was happening all over America: the first generation of Gabashi reared children were rebelling against their parents. Across the rest of the world the same thing was going on. The children and teenagers were seeking instant pleasure regardless of long-term cost. The Gabashi were behind it: feeding off the good feelings the children produced by doing what made them happy, encouraging them to just enjoy themselves for the moment. The Gabashi made things so easy for the young they didn’t have to think of consequences. They could just have fun. And the parents could just stand by and watch them, powerless to do anything.