Contest Next Saturday!

Well, none of us won anything in the contest! I am still going to do it in April though, it was a nice workout. I think this actually isn't bad; I will expand it and try to place it somewhere. ^_^

Christmas Eve in New London

Travers smiled at the memory of last year, the children’s pink cheeks pressed to the ice-frosted windows. His work took all year to complete, but it touched him to see the delight in the children’s faces.

Travers knotted the last ribbon on the last girl. He straightened and smiled at the group. Boys and girls, awkward in the first blush of adolescence, others with baby fat in their faces, but none younger than ten. They gazed back with unseeing eyes. Travers took the hand of the little girl. “Let’s go home.”

He threw open the cellar door and emerged into the street, followed by the children. Snow lined the streets of New London. Gaslights glowed yellow. The city was silent; everyone was inside celebrating, and there were no carriages or dogs. They had tried to bring horses and pets, but they died of stress on the journey. New London was quiet but for the constant hum of the supercomputer that ran the city.

In a quarter-hour they reached the first house. Travers took the arm of a boy of thirteen. He thumped the knocker, and a nearly identical boy answered the door. He examined his counterpart for a moment, then stepped aside to allow them in.

At the next house Travers dropped off two girls; three at the next, then a lanky boy. At every house the children beat the servants to the door, excaliming over Travers’ gifts. The parents bade Travers to have some wine. By the time he left the second-to-last house, the hands of Big Ben touched eleven’o’clock. There were two children left, a willowy girl and a boy a little younger. Their hair was the same shade of yellow.

The people who fled to this planet from the dying Earth longed for the simplicity of an earlier era. New London sported the trappings of the Victorian original, without the scourges of rats or beggars. But it had not always been pleasant. When Travers and his family arrived, the children had already begun to die. No one could discover what it was. Pregnancies ended in stillbirths. Babies died, then toddlers. Travers’ two sons grew listless and weak. One day he found his wife crying over them. A week later, she hanged herself.

Travers shut himself in his basement. After a month he emerged with the Device, and the first body. It was risky. The first body was only a modified servitor android, but a desperate father agreed to the experiment.

Travers saved the Wiltshires for last, as he always did. The wife made him nervous. She was an invalid, and her sunken eyes continually followed him around the room.

Charlie answered the door, Rowan on his heels. “There they are! Mum, Daddy, look! It’s not much taller. I think I would have grown more than that in a year.”

“It’s at least an inch taller, silly.” Rowan ruffled her brother’s hair.

In the drawing room, Wiltshire sipped at brandy. Mrs. Wiltshire lay on a chaise lounge.
Wiltshire nodded. “Merry Christmas, Travers. Excellent work.”

Travers opened his pack and removed the Device. One curved metal helmet was strapped on the vacant boy’s head, the other on Charlie’s. He connected them with a tangle of wires. He plugged the wires into a box. He pressed some buttons and flicked a lever. Abruptly Charlie collapsed.

The other boy blinked. He held out his hands and flexed the fingers, grinning.

“My turn!” Rowan squealed. Travers repeated the procedure with her. When she opened her eyes they were in a face slightly thinner, slightly older.

“Thank you.” Wiltshire eyed his children. “Time for bed. Santa Claus won’t come if you’re awake.”

Their eyes widened in alarm. They shook Travers’ hand, and went upstairs.

“I’ll just carry these things to the rubbish bin.” Wiltshire gathered up the old bodies and disappeared into the hall.

Travers began to pack his equipment. “They grow up quickly, don’t they?”

“Someday they’ll all be grown up, and there will be no more children at all. Except, there are no more children now, are there?” She watched him with hooded gaze, like a hunting bird.

“I don’t understand.” He smiled at her, puzzled. “The bodies aren’t organic, but the consciousness is that of your children. I couldn’t save their physical bodies, but their minds are intact.”

“I don’t believe that story. I never did. It’s time you knew that.”

“Ma’am-“

“Rowan was a bad child. I never liked her. She threw tantrums, she beat her brother. I caught her torturing a cat once, setting its tail alight. She was intolerable. When she took ill, I secretly thanked God.”

“Ma’am-“

“All the children in this city are well-behaved. A bit mischievous maybe, but none are bad. Even Rowan is polite and kind, since…my husband says the illness changed her. But I know, they all know, even if they won’t admit it…the illness killed her. Killed all of them.”

“Mrs. Wiltshire-“

“You didn’t transfer the children’s minds to artificial bodies. You made your own minds. I don’t mind Rowan, but Charlie…” Tears glinted in her eyes.

“A peaceful city,” Travers whispered. “Needs peaceful inhabitants.”

Wiltshire appeared in the doorway. “Will you have brandy, Travers? Or plum pudding?”

Travers looked at Mrs. Wiltshire. She gazed out the window.

“Thank you.” Travers said. “I will.”