The sandstone and brown brick houses set off with cream painted wood shone like gold due to the morning sun. The same sunlight transformed the silver metal cross on top of the Victorian church in the centre of the neighbourhood to glow like a neon sign.
The visiting couple on the first day of their annual holiday to the far, far South took it all in with ecstasy. It was a treasure well worth seeking.
They would tick off their usual haunts on their checklist in their home away from home as if they were visiting their long dead grandparents.
The quiet streets were deserted save for the elderly woman half walking, half dragging her overweight West Highland White Terrier who resembled a recalcitrant miniature polar bear. They swaggered down the pavement displaying vivid confidence.
The pair were soon joined by commuters to the downtown central business district and neighbourhood schoolchildren who sensibly walked. Every one of them gave the impression that the day was theirs and theirs alone to conquer. As it was Friday, they had triumphed; the entire weekend was theirs!
The flowers in the beds near the pavement included blazing-coloured roses with their deep aroma of romance and forbidden trysts as well as sprigs of soothing lavender that put a spring in everyone’s step.
The far, far South was like a combination of a time machine and that Bottled City of Kandor in Superman’s Fortress of Solitude. The visitors viewed things no longer existing in their own home.
‘Well! Hello! It must be that time of year again!’
As always, Ernie came out of his house to greet them as he did every year. It was an example of the wonderfulness of the Good Old Days. Not only did everyone have the time to make small talk, to laugh and learn as you passed the time, but there wasn’t ‘the tyranny of cool’ where people lived by their daily diaries and smartphones as only losers spoke to strangers who couldn’t make you richer.
‘You’ve noticed the changes…’
The most prominent change was the vast numbers of what were called the Newcomers.
No one knew where they were really from; the authorities would never say. The most popular reasoning was that they were an ethnic and religious minority from a powerful totalitarian state that the authorities did not wish to offend, ergo, if they were refugees, they were fleeing something awful, and that just couldn’t be…Anyone who said they were from within the Hollow Earth, another dimension or planet were called ‘conspiracy theorists’ and charged with spreading 'misinformation'.
A journalist announced she would inform the world about the truth of the origin of the Newcomers. A victim of a serious automobile accent before her broadcast, she survived but perished when her hospital caught fire and exploded.
Ever so gradually the Newcomer’s numbers increased, first in the large metropolitan centres, then the smaller cities, later the mid-sized towns, afterwards the villages and country hamlets.
The Newcomers quickly adopted the language of their new homes and gradually the local accents. Keeping to themselves, they showed neither hostility nor happiness. They went out of their way to neither antagonise nor mystify the natives; speaking only when spoken to and avoiding any conversation they deemed unnecessary.
Initially they took menial employment and gained respect for not taking welfare money from the government. Their numbers grew like public servant bureaucrats; later they became public servant bureaucrats. They were granted token executive positions in both the public and private sector, though their subordinates said they were incapable of making decisions with their appearance being more of a ‘feel good’ thing for the patronising powers-that-be. Soon they were actors in commercials, films and television, for they were non-temperamental thespians.
Their apparent docility, courtesy and hard work endeared them to most people except for those who lived to spread discord and thrive on arguments. Any manifestation of alleged xenophobia had been made illegal, as the Newcomers politely reminded people and courteously threatened to report those who would not cease to converse with them. The Newcomers regarded persistent attempts at conversation as ‘harassment’ and the authorities backed them up on it. As their numbers increased in the workplace, so the unions declined as the Newcomers refused to join.
The strangest of things was that an acquaintance who was a mortician said that they had never handled the funeral of a dead Newcomer. Those killed in accidents had their bodies claimed by unseen families and ‘traditional elders’; then vanished.
After a small breakfast in a local café, the visitors returned to Mrs. Reardon’s hotel where they always stayed. When they arrived the previous evening, their key was waiting in its usual place.
‘Welcome. We hope you have a wonderful stay.’
Instead of Mrs. Reardon they were greeted by a Newcomer dressed exactly like Mrs. Reardon.
‘Isn’t Mrs. Reardon in today?’
‘She has retired and sold the hotel. We are the new owners.’
There wasn’t the usual welcoming morning tea. The couple settled their bill for their stay in an efficient, businesslike way, but without any warmth.
They walked to the Central Business District to do their shopping and agreed to meet for lunch at one of their favourite restaurants.
Each discovered that not only was the Central Business District filled with Newcomers, but nearly all the shops, teahouses and cafés were now run by efficient but laconic Newcomers, as was their restaurant rendezvous. Everywhere kept the same décor and menu as before.
He reflected to his wife how when he was a child, he dined on the cheap but excellent cuisine of Italian and Greek migrants, then in his working years by Asian, Middle Eastern and Latin American fare, and now it was the Newcomer’s specialties. They complemented the passive waitress on how wonderful their lunch tasted.
Shopping completed, they returned through the lovely park to their neighbourhood.
As they passed Ernie’s house, a Newcomer dressed exactly like Ernie came out of his house to look in his mailbox.
‘Hello…where’s Ernie?’
The Newcomer shrugged his shoulders and entered his home.
It was nearing the late afternoon when the workers and schoolchildren returned home…they were nearly all Newcomers.
‘That’s strange…’
They returned to their hotel room and made themselves afternoon tea. His wife excused herself to go to the toilet.
A Newcomer dressed as his wife came out of the bathroom.
He looked in the mirror…
FIN
Author Notes: I am the author of three Extra Dimensional/Ultraterrestial military science fiction novels MERCENARY EXOTIQUE, OPERATION CHUPACABRA and WORK IN OTHER WORLDS FROM YOUR OWN HOME! as well as two travel books THE MAN FROM WAUKEGAN and TWO AUSTRALIANS IN SCOTLAND (all from Lulu.com). I live happily ever after with my wife in paradise (coastal Kiama, NSW Australia).
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Australia • 67 years old