I recommend that all bosses should bring up a four-year old single-handed for a year.

But don’t come too close.

“Moulting,” Peter thought savagely, the parents must have left it too late. Shouldn’t have entered the child.

There was a scream from the crowd as the small body hit the ground, followed by a gasp and a sigh.

“Them,” muttered the man standing next to him, pointing. “Poor sods!”

There was no time for that though, not whilst his was still up in the air. He trained his binoculars on the evening sky.

“Jeez,” the man was saying, looking up now. “Jeez.”

Peter switched from one child to another, searching the colours splashed across their wings. Eduardo was still up there, still flying strong. He spat on the ground. Nobody should have to go through this.

“Different in my day,” he muttered, but the man was paying no attention now. “Different!” he said again, more loudly.

“Yeah.”

It didn’t do to take your eyes off them, Peter thought. Eduardo was flying steadily upwards, not the first, he’d told him not to be the first, said he had to reserve his strength - but he was there, in the front group. A good position to move from when ….

When it was time for the Judgement.

“Do I have to?” his son had asked whilst they’d been training.

“Yes,” he’d replied grimly, “if you want to live…”

Swing, duck, dive - it was all coordination. He’d tried to show him how, but his body no longer obeyed, and he’d forgotten what it was like, and of course nowadays….

Nowadays they went in for the kill.

He trained his glasses again, watched them as they climbed higher.

“Yours?” he asked.

“Red,” the man replied.

Paul nodded. There were several reds. He debated which one it was, thought about asking, decided against it.

“Two flashes,” the man said, reading his mind. Two flashes - Paul picked the child up, he seemed to be doing alright.

“And yours?”

“Yellow - three.”

He looked across, saw the man nod acknowledgement.

“First time?” asked Paul.

The man grunted, said nothing.

“Second for me,” Paul replied. He went back to peering through the binoculars.

The children were circling now at their final height, cautiously keeping their distance from each other. It was basic tactics; you didn’t want to be too near the slow ones - the ones who didn’t think fast enough, the ones who didn’t react in time, the ones whose muscles simply didn’t respond. If they were going to be singled out you wanted to stay a long way away.

He scanned around, looking for the Judges. They would be waiting, probably discussing tactics. He knew who two of them were, always made a point of being pleasant, he had his contacts. A couple of men from the far side of town, earning a little extra. Childless, too - a prequsite.

That would leave two more, and with only twenty five children they’d be working in pairs. He’d spent a lot of time on their likely stragegy.

“If it’s pairs,” he’d told his son, “they’re going to come in at you like this,” and he’d mimed his two hands approaching. “Then one of them will probably circle, take your attention away, whlst the other one either goes below or dives in from above. You have to be aware of that. And while you’re concentrating on the attacker, his mate will be gauging you, coming in at your weak spot. You get three goes; if you get touched every time -.”

He paused.

“It’s their right to kill you.”

He’d never known any child survive the kill. They would come in, tumble you over, follow you down so that you didn’t right yourself. In his day -.

He focused his glasses, picked out Eduardo again, then scanned round the sky. There - yes, it had to be! Four dots in the distance - and the rest of the crowd had seen them too, for now there was an audible sigh.

“Bastards!” the man said.

Paul glanced sideways, resumed watching again. They were approaching slowly, taking their time. From where they were the children would be clearly discernible. They were going to wait - and assess.

“I know them all.”

Paul was surprised by this. Not only was it unlikely, you just didn’t talk about it. Not with strangers.. He shook his head, carried on looking again.

“Bastards!”

“I heard you the first time,” he said.

It was dangerous. You didn’t want to be around people like that.

Up above, the Judges had begun to circle slowly. Paul watched them with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as they approached.

There was no doubt about it. They were homing in, zoning out the others, cutting through, dividing the pack.

And now he realised, heart-stoppingly, that it was Eduardo they were after.

Quick as a flash the child had gone, twisting and soaring, leaving his pursuers behind.

But this was no ordinary pack.

Normally they went for you in pairs, Paul knew, but today -

Today it was all four of them.

“Unfair!”

The cry escaped from his mouth involuntarily as a shaking began in his boots.

The man glanced over at him sarcastically.

There were three of the Judges now, focussed, driving, but it was the fourth you always had to watch for. Paul scanned around the sky carefully, If he couldn’t pick the fourth up, what chance did the child have?

There!

“Bastard!”

The fourth was coming in from above, out of the sun, invisible.

Even so, Eduardo put up a fight, picking him up at the last moment, dodging and diving and almost getting away with it but then -

A groan went up from the crowd.

Touched!

A feather wafted towards the ground.

In that moment of triumph the Judges gathered together, conversing, flitting in and out of their little group. That had just been too easy - …

Paul knew that it could go either way now. Sometimes they would be happy to make a point, and then move on. Childless they might be, but they had family, brothers and sisters, and none of them wanted to be ostracised, but still, you you never knew - …

Never knew what pressures there might be …

He’d seen it all before, heard about what went on. He shuddered involuntarily and turned away from that part of his mind dwelling on the past. It was up to the Judges now -

They were attacking again, and in that instant Paul knew.

A deep and contorted groan escaped from his lips.

Again and again his child fled and escaped, and again and again they came after him. The harder Eduardo tried, and the more desperate he became, the more determined the Judges grew.

And now he was cornered and there was nowhere to go, and suddenly there were two above and one coming in from either side and he’d had enough, he just collapsed, given up, and it was the second time now, and even as the Judges retreated Paul could see that Eduardo hadn’t the heart to continue …

“Go Eduardo, go!” Paul shouted out in his agony, but the child was far too far away to ever hear - and the Judges, who had retreated, were looking and laughing - yes, even laughing! - and then as if in slow motion they regrouped, spread out, fanned wide, and there was no way a child was going to get away from them now, no way, and Paul felt his blood drain away from his heart and a faintness touch his head and as they moved in Eduard was hardly trying now, they barely bothered to coordinate, a feather drifted away and they were above him, crowding him down, pushing him towards the ground -

“No!”

Beside him the man looked sympathetic - and then he spoke.

“I can help.”

Paul didn’t hear him the first time, but then it went in.

“Help!”

“You want me to help?”

Paul looked across at him in mute horror, his eyes meeting the man’s eyes, his mind almost beyond itself.

The man was speaking calmly.

“The Party …”

“Yes!” A shriek went up from the very well of Paul’s being.

The man snorted derisively, muttered into his wrist, and the four men crowding the child broke apart, one diving underneath -

“Everything?”

“Everything!”

And that’s when I saw it - on the back page - staring out at me in three-inch high letters.

‘The Alien Club,’ it screamed. ‘Join now, and get these four top-selling aliens for FREE!’

Well, naturally I couldn’t believe it, but I wasn’t that interested - then. All I wanted to do was dream.

‘Supposing I was to join?’ I thought. ‘Which ones would I have ? ‘ - and since I was so utterly bored I found a pencil and began to make circles. That took me half an hour. By the time I’d finished there were still ten, and so I sat back and tried to whittle those ten down to four. Well, I was only playing.

And then I read through the ad. again. There was no small print - literally. I checked it, rechecked it, and then I checked it once more. “Special offer!” it read. “Four Aliens - free !” They even spelt it out. “There are no hidden catches,” it read. “If you decide to take no aliens you are under no further obligation. Simply fill in the monthly form stating that you don’t wish to have this month’s recommendation and then post it back to us. All we ask is that you consider our Selector’s choice for a minimum six months!”

Well, that seemed simple enough. I could do that. Keep them happy for six months and then get to keep four top class aliens. Hell, it had to be worth a few minutes of my time .

There was a good selection to choose from. I’d always fancied an intellectual Alien. And I wanted a light and humorous one that would keep me entertained. There would be another for stroking, of course, and a Joker that I knew nothing about. Heck, why not. Excellent value for money !

Of course I’d heard all the stories. I knew there was always a catch, but I felt I was bright, I was up to it, I could handle whatever they threw at me. I’d read it, hadn’t I ? “No catches,” it said, and that was good enough to stand up in a court of law.

So I posted it, right ? And then I forgot about it for a month.

So it was a pleasant surprise to get a note from the Delivery Office telling me that a parcel had arrived. I guessed it was the Aliens, but I wasn’t sure. It was the kid’s birthday, and all sorts of things were now turning up.

As soon as I saw it I knew it was for me, not the child. Just the look of it was enough. A massive great box.

The Aliens.

I snuck back home, tore off the wrapping, and stared in admiration. These were quality, I thought to myself. You could tell just by looking.

I lifted out the stroky one first, placed it on the floor. It sat there doing nothing, looking sensual, and I reached out and touched it. Gorgeous. This one was going to be my little secret, the one I kept hidden away. The wife wasn’t going to know about THAT.

I must have spent a good twenty minutes staring at it in admiration before I dragged msyelf away and had a look at the others. The intellectual one was standing looking at me quizzically, so I put it on the coffee table and made it sing. I asked it a few questions, and it replied politely. Very impressive. They’d done a good job, beautifully turned out. The wonders of modern-day technology; mass-breeding meant anyone could now afford an alien.

Then it was the Joker, the one that might (or might not) be any good. At first sight I was impressed, but when I started prodding it I realised I’d been sold a pup. Sold ? Given, then. It kep me amused for a few moments, but once the novelty had worn off I knew it would have no place in my home. Shame to waste anything, but it was heading for the Disposer.

And that left the light one, the Alien I could spend a few carefree moments with every now and then. I went and made myself a sandwich, sat down in front of it and put it through its paces.

It could dance, obviously, tell a few jokes, and it had a decent stock of stories. I spent another twenty minutes with it, skipped through most of the material it had to offer and then walked away. Life was too busy, and I knew from past experience that I’d leave it around on a side table for a week or so before it was relegated to some dark corner, never to be seen again.

But all things considered I was pleased - very pleased. I liked Aliens, liked to have them stacked up neatly on shelves or left lying around chattering to themselves, I liked to put one through its paces every now and again. And I liked new Aliens. I liked their clean, fresh smell and the promise they held of future delight.

As simple as that.

Surprisingly, after a few days I more or less forgot about them all. I’d walk past a shelf, think, ‘Gotta check that one out,’ and then do nothing. Life was too frantic, the child was keeping me busy, and when I had time to relax I wanted to be mindless. Aliens required interaction, and I was too tired for anything but passive entertainment.

Anyhow, once a month a letter would come from the Alien club, and I would open it, fill in the bit that said, ‘No’ and ditch the accompanying junk. Toddle off to the Delivery Unit, send it away, and that was that. Hey Presto ! Easy.

Not that I didn’t worry about it a little, of course. I was naturally lazy and had forgotten to note down the date my Aliens had arrived, so I couldn’t for the life of me remember how many months I had left. And the Alien Club were clever. If I didn’t return the letter within six days it was automatically assumed I wanted the Selector’s Choice. Which meant that in the back of my brain I was always in a permanent state of addled recollection.

And then one day of course, it happened. I had a vague feeling the form was overdue. I was pretty sure I was near the end of my six month ‘trial’, and pleased as anything to have got away with it. I should have tried this years ago, I thought.

Well, surprise surprise. The Alien Club didn’t give up that easy. I’d just returned from taking the child to school and was sitting down planning the rest of my day when there was a loud thud outside the door. I wasn’t sure if my ears had deceived me, so I went to have a look. Just as I put the key in the lock there was a loud screaming of turbo-boosters and the sound of a Jetship shooting away. And there, lo and behold, was another Alien parcel outside the door.

Being dumb, though, it took me a while to figure out who it was from. I racked my brains, wondering if the wife had ordered it, or even Mum. It wasn’t until I opened it and took the invoice out of its hand that I twigged.

And then boy, was I furious! I stomped around swearing loudly, and wrote in big bold letters across the invoice - ‘NOT mine! Take it BACK!’

And then I sat down and began to figure out what to d.

Blazoned in large letters across the parcel were the words, ‘Postage MUST be affixed if returning this Alien. The Delivery Office will refuse to deliver the parcel without postage.’ Not until a few days later did I realise that I could, indeed, just slam it into the Delivery unit. The Alien Club would have to pay for it, that was all.

I admired their cheek.

Well, obviously I told the wife about it that night. She just laughed. ‘What d’you expect?’ she mocked. ‘They have to make their money somehow.’

‘But I sent the form back!’ I protested . ‘They shouldn’t have sent me another Alien!’

‘Stupid!’ she said. ‘They’re bound to pretend they didn’t receive your form. There must be a thousand no-hopers like you every day!’

‘They said there’s no catch -!’

‘They were lying. Put the postage on and send it back!’

But I wasn’t going to do that. Not with my money. With their Alien.

So I rang up the Trade Licensing Dept. and the woman told me what to do. Apparently it was quite common. She gave me the required Laws to quote, told me to ask the Alien Club for a postage slip. If they didn’t send me one, the Alien was mine.

But I was still hopping mad.

So I resolved to protest.

Not for me the legal route. If they messed around with me they were going to get what they deserved!

So I wrote to the Alien Club, kindly informing them that I wasn’t going to pay for THEIR Alien, and that it was in fact sitting right outside my front door, talking quietly to itself.

I also told them that it was illegal to leave Aliens unsupervised, and that as I hadn’t paid for it it was their responsibility.

And then I sat back and waited.

That was over a year ago, and I’m no longer married. I was hoping they’d come round and try to take the creature away, because I’d cemented its feet into the path, but it’s still there, a little faded looking, a little unhappy, muttering resentfully to itself, and I have to use the back door now because of that sad look in its eyes.