When my wife and I moved into our current home in 2006, most residents in our suburb were a generation or more older than we were and the houses dated to the 1960s and 1970s. Around 2020, a good many of those residents began to drop off the perch – they were simply reaching that age – and, almost invariably, when their houses went on the market they would be snapped up by a developer who proceeded to build a new duplex where the old house had stood.
While driving my son home from his swimming lesson one night I noted one of these duplexes and I thought to myself, My suburb is undergoing a metamorphosis. As an incorrigible optimist, the responding thought came back, Just try to accept the changes that are coming. Ah, but what if I really hated those changes? What if I found the thing that emerged from the chrysalis repugnant?
Two seconds later, I had the kernel for this story. It didn’t quite turn out as the foregoing might suggest, because Lester – whom you could almost call the anti-antagonist of the piece – proved so determined to be sexually attracted to an alien. Although the story has political overtones, I tried to keep them as ill-defined as possible. Anyone seeking polemic will find plenty enough on social media.
Kris Ashton 