Alien Education

by Gini Koch

  Kevin and his kids stuck with us, though, since Denise was here, and went up with the rest of us to the Presidential suite where Denise and Nadine were watching Charlie and Becky.

  Zipped through the door first, picked Charlie up, and gave him lots of hugs and snuggles. Shifted him to my hip and managed to deftly snatch Becky with my other arm before Christopher got to her, but only managed one kiss and snuggle before he rudely took his daughter away from me and hogged her to himself. At least until White used grandparental authority and took her from his son. Charlie found this hilarious, then demanded to go to Jeff, leaving me bereft of small children to love on. Always the way.

  The rest of the Valentino kids, who were still hanging about for some reason instead of having already gone home to their mother as I’d expected them to do, insisted on attending the party as well, and since Vance had said no one younger than Lizzie and all of them were her age or older, we kind of lost that battle. Texted Vance to advise him to share these latest additions with Akiko.

  “You have to be prepared for your sister to be there,” I said finally, after Sylvia and TCC had been called and had approved that their kids could spend the night and stay out late, on a school night, no less. What was the A-C world coming to? Then again, perhaps they were enjoying alone time. Someone should be scoring it, and it wasn’t going to be me for the foreseeable future. “And if she’s there, she’s not necessarily going to go easy on you guys with whatever she has planned.”

  “If she’s there, then we’ll deal,” Claire said.

  “We get it, she’s a traitor,” Sidney added. “We still love her, but she’s pretty much cut ties with us.”

  “Really? I thought she was sneaking by for visits when no one was looking.”

  “She was,” Louise said. “But our father told her she needed to stop and come back and ask to be forgiven. She won’t do it, said he wasn’t really our father, and tried to force our mother to choose between him and her. Our mother chose our father.”

  “So, Stephanie’s not welcome anymore,” Anthony added. “Our mother told her that until she’s willing to stop working against our family and people, she can’t come home again. We haven’t seen Stephanie since.”

  Sort of felt bad for Stephanie. TCC was a clone of Clarence and Stephanie was right—he wasn’t really her father, just a copy of him. A far nicer copy, but still, not the same. And yet, the rest of her family had happily chosen to believe a lie they knew was a lie. Wasn’t sure what I’d do in Stephanie’s place, but had a feeling it would be what she’d done.

  “So we’ll be ready for her,” Claire said before I could come up with any response. “Don’t worry, Aunt Kitty. We aren’t like our sister. We won’t let you down.” The other kids nodded, Louise most emphatically.

  A few other issues—like no one drinking anything they didn’t know for sure was alcohol-free—were discussed. Wasim and Naveed both seemed to buy our “against our religion” line. We did our best to not share with the world that A-Cs were deathly allergic to alcohol. That no one had slipped vodka into Jeff’s drink yet was truly a miracle, and one I wanted to ensure continued.

  Then Siler, Christopher, Becky, White, and all the Valentino kids went back to the Embassy for naps and party prep, while Nadine zipped off to take the nap she’d probably need most of any of us. The Lewises decided to rest and prep at the Embassy as well, so they took off for now, while Wasim and Naveed followed Nadine’s lead and went down the hall.

  Gower was still with us, but he chose to go back to the Pontifex’s Residence. “I haven’t heard from Alpha Team,” he said before he left. “I’m hoping that doesn’t mean they’re in trouble.”

  “They’ll be fine,” Jeff said. “We’ll know if they need us.” He gave Gower a hug, then escorted him to the gate in our bathroom.

  This left me, Jeff, and our three kids. “Family nap time,” I suggested. “Who’s in?”

  Jamie ran for our bed and jumped on it. “Me!”

  Lizzie lifted into the air, sailed slowly over to the bed, and was deposited on it. “I think Charlie says I’m in.”

  Hugged him. “Little man, that’s not necessarily the right way to ask.”

  He grinned at me, but didn’t talk. Maybe the telekinesis took so much energy that he just didn’t bother with speaking. Now that I knew that he could, and could speak as well as Jamie had at his age, it was less worrisome and more interesting.

  Kids and adults kicked off their shoes and I dumped my purse on the floor, then we all lay down fully clothed on the bed, Lizzie on one side of me, Charlie on the other, Jamie next to him, and Jeff next to her. Jamie told us all about her day, and as she did so, just allowed myself to relax and cuddle with my family and enjoy this nice, peaceful, loving moment in a day that had been far too insane.

  Lizzie fell asleep first, then Charlie. Jamie lowered her voice, but kept on sharing. Jeff was the next one out. “Mommy?” Jamie whispered.

  “Yes, sweetie?” I whispered back.

  “You can go to sleep now.”

  “Not until you do.”

  “But you don’t sleep when everyone else is sleeping.”

  This was true when it wasn’t officially bedtime. Wondered how she knew it. “But I don’t want you awake while all of us are asleep.”

  “I’m going to nap as soon as you fall asleep, Mommy. Promise.”

  I could argue, or I could let her win this one. Decided to trust her. “Okay, Jamie-Kat.”

  “I’ll sing you a song.” With that, she sang the songs we sang to her and her brother at night to me. I was asleep by the second one, my last coherent thought being that I really hoped falling asleep while my not-yet-five-year-old daughter was awake didn’t earn me the Worst Mother of the Year Lifetime Achievement in Stupidity award.

  CHAPTER 59

  I WAS DREAMING AND I KNEW IT. Well, really hoped I was dreaming, because I was sitting in an empty theater, front row center, looking at an empty stage. A huge empty stage. As real life went, that would be creepy beyond belief. As my dreams went, this was just another in a long line of weirdness. Waited to see what my subconscious was going to barf up for me.

  Music started. It was faint, as if it was coming out of an old radio that was far away from me, but was pretty sure the music was The Kinks’ “Dedicated Follower of Fashion.”

  The curtain fell. “Introduction,” the first song from Panic! At the Disco’s first album, A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out came on. About the only lyrics were “ladies and gentlemen, we proudly present” and the rest was a lot of static. I mean, the song was less than forty seconds. However, as an attention-getter for me, it was working, so who was I to complain? Really wondered what was going on.

  The curtains opened and the music changed to blink-182’s “First Date.”

  Someone walked onto the stage. Not the first person I went on my first date with. Thought it was me at first, having the fun dream experience where you’re both watching the dream and in the dream as your own character at the same time. Realized it was the Kitty-Bot, however, when I noted she was in the pink linen suit. She walked to center stage, stood there for a moment, then slowly turned in a circle. Once that was done, she rocked out for a few bars of music doing the hands at shoulder level, torso going side to side and hips going back and forth, kind of dancing, where the feet don’t really move. She didn’t look bad, but sincerely hoped I danced better.

  She stepped back and to the side, stage left, as “The Other Way” by Weezer came on. Clearly I was getting a floor show.

  Jeff, Christopher, and Chuckie walked out. Well, really, shambled out. Totally naked, too, so I could see the neat stitching. Why they were all here in the dream flesh, so to speak, was a question I couldn’t answer. Just lucky, I guess. And while Dream Flesh would be a great name for a death metal band, so far this dream really was all that and a big bag of stale chips.

  They cam
e to the front of the stage then hit the iconic Saturday Night Fever pose. Yep, just as I remembered them from Gaultier’s Room of Hot Zombies—one hundred percent anatomically correct, though only Amy could give it the full confirmation for the Christopher Zombie. Of course, it would be far more titillating if I wasn’t aware they were zombies made from dead A-C parts, which I very much was.

  The three naked zombies did the full turnaround, presumably so I could also check out their butts—as fine a group of butts as any group of zombies could ever hope to have—then they shuffled to the back of the stage, in the center. Got the impression they were trying to move to the beat. Unsuccessfully.

  The music changed to “Alternative Girlfriend” by the Barenaked Ladies and two others stepped out—Bryce Taylor and Leslie Manning, aka the android children of Antony Marling. These two didn’t walk—they danced out together, doing a version of the tango. They reached the center of the stage, did a full 360 while dancing, then tangoed their way to stage right. Mercifully, neither one of them spoke. There was a part of me that still wanted to punch them both right in their android faces.

  As Cory Morrow singing “Second Chance” came on, a supersoldier stepped out and daintily skipped forward. Got the full spin, and it really spun, too, as if it was modeling the latest in Paris fashions. Resisted the urge to applaud, but appreciated its attempt to keep it sassy. The supersoldier skipped back to stand between the zombies and the Kitty-Bot, but ahead of them, forming a new line. It curtseyed then went still.

  The music changed to Joe Jackson’s “Be My Number Two” and Col. John Butler and Cameron Maurer came out. Doing a soft-shoe routine. I tried to speak, to ask why I was getting this particular dance revue, but couldn’t.

  They came to front center, did their turn around, and went to their place onstage, dancing the whole way. Only they stood between and in front of the zombies and Bryce and Leslie, and they weren’t quite on the line with the supersoldier but were forward of it just a bit.

  The music changed to “The Third Hoorah” by Jethro Tull. A set of Fem-Bots sashayed out, arm in arm, just like they were walking the runway, including tossing their heads from side to side. A Kitty-Bot, a Janelle-Bot, a Lizzie-Bot, and the heretofore unseen Amy-Bot. Wondered not for the first time why Janelle had gone to the trouble to make a Fem-Bot of herself.

  “Haven’t you ever wanted to be two places at once?” the Janelle-Bot asked as they reached the front of the stage. “Especially if someone else could do the boring things?” I certainly had, so someone actually doing so didn’t seem all that crazy now.

  The Fem-Bots began dancing a jig to the tune, doing a fair impersonation of a segment of Riverdance. My dream was really going all out for the entertainment factor. They danced in their circle, then jigged it back, positioned directly in front of the original Kitty-Bot, though their line was in front of the supersoldier and, as I judged it, they were in front of Butler and Maurer, too.

  “Better Luck Next Time” by Lifehouse came on now. And what came out were the clones of Reid and LaRue. Knew it was the clones because they were the young versions I’d met during Operation Infiltration. Them smirking at me was also a real clue.

  Instead of dancing or twirling they slouched up to center stage and flipped me off. Even in my dream these two sucked. Then they slouched over to their place on the stage, which was in front of the zombies, in line even with the Fem-Bot Rockettes, who were doing the Rockettes’ kick, which was hard to do to this particular song. I was grateful to the clones for the first time ever, though—they were blocking the total nakedness of the zombies, who were still attempting to dance and still failing utterly.

  Another musical cue, this time Three Dog Night’s “Mama Told Me (Not To Come),” and the Christopher-Bot appeared, kind of lounge singer-ing his way out, the cool-dude bob dancing, complete with finger snaps. Waved to me. Then, instead of turning or dancing, he divided into two Christopher-Bots. Both of them waved to me now, in unison, then kept on cool-dude bobbing to the song. Still in unison. Oh yeah, regular people unison was so much better.

  This was weird and I had no idea how it was done, but it would explain why both Christopher-Bots had said exactly the same things and the one we examined only had about half the gray matter. Wanted to ask how the hell this was done, but the reality of a substance that could change into something else wasn’t exactly all that new. And cells duplicated all the time. Though, since the brain seemed to be shared, this wasn’t a method anyone should want to continue, since after just a few divisions you’d have almost no gray matter per Bot.

  Had the feeling of someone being behind me, but couldn’t turn around. Wasn’t a threatening presence. Felt more protective than anything else. Noted the Christopher-Bots were looking just up and over my right shoulder. Wanted to ask who was behind me but figured it wasn’t too much of a leap to guess that the other observer was Terry. Would have asked why we weren’t speaking, but I still couldn’t make my mouth work.

  The Christopher-Bots cool-dude bobbed to stage left, directly in front of the supersoldier, but also in front of the line that had the Fem-Bot Rockettes and the nasty teenaged clones, so that it was ahead of and between the Fem-Bots and the clones. The Fem-Bots were still high-kicking up a storm.

  The music changed to “Friends Forever” by Puffy Amiyumi, so I was totally prepared for Joe and Randy to join the party. They mamboed because of course they did. Center stage and then in line with the Christopher-Bots but between Butler and Maurer and the clones.

  Still felt the presence behind me, still couldn’t turn around, still couldn’t talk. Wondered why—most of my weird dreams allowed me to chat a lot.

  “Because you need to pay attention,” Joe said.

  “The big number’s coming up,” Randy added.

  He wasn’t wrong. The song was now the live version of Bette Midler’s “Big Noise From Winnetka,” and I was really being treated to a show.

  The Kristie-Bot came out, tap dancing and spinning all the way. She danced around and with all those in the back row, including the zombies, boogied with the supersoldier, let Butler and Maurer each spin her, high-kicked with the Fem-Bot Rockettes, did the Charleston with the clones, mamboed with Joe and Randy, then shoved in between the Christopher-Bots in that Old Hollywood Musical way that sent each Christopher-Bot staggering to the side.

  They got into the act now, though, and spun back. Each took one of the Kristie-Bot’s hands and helped her do a triple flip. Then she spun them away from her, did a flip all on her own, then landed in a scissors split, jazz hands up in the air, eyes wide, with a toothy grin in perfect time with the end of the song. She was in front of everyone, not in the center of the stage, but directly in front of Joe and Randy.

  Applauded, since it seemed expected and I actually could. Plus, I didn’t want to seem negative.

  “Well?” the Kristie-Bot asked holding the pose and her expression. “Don’t you think I’m ready for my galactic close-up?”

  I did not, though I was still unable to share this vocally. Frankly, seeing all of this before me made me terrified of what the galaxy was going to do with all the shenanigans we seemed to always have going on here on Earth.

  “Oh, they have lots going on, too, never you fear,” the Kristie-Bot said cheerfully.

  “And you’ll find out,” Bryce said.

  “But not right now,” Leslie added.

  “Because you’ve got to solve the mess you’ve already started right now,” the clones said in nasty teenaged unison. Tried to get up to go beat their faces in but couldn’t. Also wanted to share that whatever was going on wasn’t my fault, but couldn’t. This dream was testing my patience—I didn’t like not talking or moving for this long.

  No one said anything else, no one on the stage moved or spoke—the Kristie-Bot’s hands were still up, the Fem-Bots had their legs held up in the high kick, the zombies were back to channeling John Travolta but s
adly without the white suit, everyone seemed frozen—and there was no music. Still couldn’t look to my right or left, but the presence behind me hadn’t gone.

  Wanted to ask Terry what I was learning from all of this, but assumed this episode of Dancing With Your Nightmares: Special Victims Unit hadn’t been put on just so I’d never want to nap again. Therefore, time to figure out what the hell I was supposed to figure out.

  Studied the stage. I was better with chessboards. But this dream wasn’t a game of chess. It was a lot more like A Chorus Line without the talent and fun. Not helping myself.

  Was I supposed to figure out who’d made what? If so, why weren’t those creators on the stage? No, who made what didn’t matter as much as what was being made right now.

  There was still room onstage, should someone else want to dance out from the back. Not that I wanted anything or anyone else, and not that anyone or anything else seemed to be about to dazzle us. Waited. Nope. Neither Naomi or any other Dazzler came out. We were dealing only with fabricated people or those who’d had that fabrication forced upon them.

  It didn’t take a lot to guess that everyone had come out in order of, if not creation, then use. The back row were the three starter projects, none of them perfect, though experience said that the Bryce and Leslie androids had been damned good enough to almost kill me.

  The ones to stage right were all sentient with free will, at least once they were “fixed.” The ones to stage left were all programmed, meaning the Christopher-Bot wasn’t sentient, he’d just been programmed to think he was, which was cruel, really. Not that it was a surprise that the people behind this didn’t care who they hurt.

  The supersoldiers and the androids had been going at the same time. But based on stage placement, my gut said that the supersoldiers were perfected, to use the term loosely, by combining the Kitty-Bot and the Hot Zombies, at least their technology or how they were zapped into existence or something.