{"id":25414,"date":"2025-12-03T21:39:55","date_gmt":"2025-12-04T01:39:55","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/?p=25414"},"modified":"2025-12-03T21:39:57","modified_gmt":"2025-12-04T01:39:57","slug":"brian-aldiss-the-new-father-christmas","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/short-stories\/brian-aldiss-the-new-father-christmas\/25414\/","title":{"rendered":"Brian Aldiss: The New Father Christmas"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Synopsis:<\/strong> \u201cThe New Father Christmas\u201d is a short story by Brian Aldiss published in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction in January 1958. Set in the year 2388, it tells the story of Roberta and Robin, an elderly couple who live on the upper floors of a gigantic factory. When Roberta discovers that it is Christmas, she decides to share the news with three homeless people hiding in the basement of the factory, which continues to operate tirelessly. However, by inviting them up to her home, she sets off a chain of events that will forever change the fate of the inhabitants of this oppressive mechanized world.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\n
\"Brian<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

The New Father Christmas<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Brian Aldiss
(Full story)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Little old Roberta took the clock down off the shelf and put it on the hotplate; then she picked up the kettle and tried to wind it. The clock was almost boiling before she realized what she had done. Shrieking quietly, so as not to wake old Robin, she snatched up the clock with a dustcloth and dropped it onto the table. It ticked furiously. She looked at it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Although Roberta wound the clock every morning when she got up, she had neglected to look at it for months. Now she looked and saw it was seven-thirty on Christmas Day, 2388.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh dear,\u201d she exclaimed. \u201cIt\u2019s Christmas Day already! It seems to have come very soon after Lent this year.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She had not even realized it was 2388. She and Robin had lived in the factory so long. The idea of Christmas excited her, for she liked surprises\u2014but it also frightened her, because she thought about the New Father Christmas and that was something she preferred not to think about. The New Father Christmas was reputed to make his rounds on Christmas morning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI must tell Robin,\u201d she said. But poor Robin had been very touchy lately; it was conceivable that having Christmas suddenly forced upon him would make him cross. Roberta was unable to keep anything to herself, so she would have to go down and tell the tramps. Apart from Robin, there were only the tramps.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Putting the kettle on the stove, she left their living quarters and went into the factory, like a little mouse emerging from its mince-pie-smelling nest. Roberta and Robin lived right at the top of the factory and the tramps had their illegal home right at the bottom. Roberta began tiptoeing down many, many steel stairs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The factory was full of the sort of sounds Robin called \u201csilent noise.\u201d It continued day and night, and the two humans had long ago ceased to hear it; it would continue when they had become incapable of hearing anything. This morning the machines were as busy as ever, and looked not at all Christmassy. Roberta noticed in particular the two machines she hated most: the one with loom-like movements which packed impossibly thin wire into impossibly small boxes, and the one which thrashed about as if it were struggling with an invisible enemy and did not seem to be producing anything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The old lady walked delicately past them and down into the basement. She came to a gray door and knocked at it. At once she heard the three tramps fling themselves against the inside of the door and press against it, shouting hoarsely to each other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Roberta was unable to shout, but she waited until they were silent and then called through the door as loudly as she could, \u201cIt\u2019s only me, boys.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After a moment\u2019s hush, the door opened a crack. Then it opened wide. Three seedy figures stood there, their faces anguished: Jerry, the ex-writer, and Tony and Dusty, who had never been and never would be anything but tramps. Jerry, the youngest, was forty, and so still had half his life to drowse through, Tony was fifty-five, and Dusty had heat rash.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe thought you were the Terrible Sweeper!\u201d Tony exclaimed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Terrible Sweeper swept right through the factory every morning. Every morning, the tramps had to barricade themselves in their room, or the Sweeper would have bundled them and all their tawdry belongings into the disposal chutes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019d better come in,\u201d Jerry said. \u201cExcuse the mess.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Roberta entered and sat down on a crate, tired after her journey. The tramps\u2019 room made her uneasy, for she suspected them of bringing Women in here occasionally; also, there were pants hanging in one corner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI had something to tell you all,\u201d she said. They waited politely, expectantly. Jerry cleaned his nails with a tack.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ve forgotten now just what it is,\u201d she confessed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The tramps sighed with relief. They feared anything which threatened to disturb their tranquillity. Tony became communicative.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s Christmas Day,\u201d he said, looking around furtively. \u201cIs it really!\u201d Roberta exclaimed. \u201cSo soon after Lent?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAllow us,\u201d Jerry said, \u201cto wish you a safe Christmas and a persecution-free New Year.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This courtesy brought Roberta\u2019s latent fears to the surface at once.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2014you don\u2019t believe in the New Father Christmas, do you?\u201d she asked them. They made no answer, but Dusty\u2019s face went the color of lemon peel and she knew they did believe. So did she.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019d better all come up to the flat and celebrate this happy day,\u201d Roberta said. \u201cAfter all, there\u2019s safety in numbers.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI can\u2019t go through the factory; the machines bring on my heat rash,\u201d Dusty said. \u201cIt\u2019s a sort of allergy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNevertheless, we will go,\u201d Jerry said. \u201cNever pass a kind offer by.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Like heavy mice, the four of them crept up the stairs and through the engrossed factory. The machines pretended to ignore them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the flat, they found pandemonium. The kettle was boiling over and Robin was squeaking for help. Officially bed-ridden, Robin could get up in times of crisis; he stood now just inside the bedroom door, and Roberta had to remove the kettle before going to placate him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd why have you brought those creatures up here?\u201d he demanded in a loud whisper.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBecause they are our friends, Robin,\u201d Roberta said, struggling to get him back to bed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey are no friends of mine!\u201d he said. He thought of something really terrible to say to her; he trembled and wrestled with it and did not say it. The effort left him weak and irritable. How he loathed being in her power! As caretaker of the vast factory, it was his duty to see that no undesirables entered, but as matters were at present he could not evict the tramps while his wife took their side. Life was exasperating.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe came to wish you a safe Christmas, Mr. Proctor,\u201d Jerry said, sliding into the bedroom with his two companions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cChristmas, and I got heat rash!\u201d Dusty said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt isn\u2019t Christmas,\u201d Robin whined as Roberta pushed his feet under the sheets. \u201cYou\u2019re just saying it to annoy me.\u201d If they could only know or guess the anger that stormed like illness through his veins.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At that moment, the delivery chute pinged and an envelope catapulted into the room. Robin took it from Roberta, opening it with trembling hands. Inside was a Christmas card from the Minister of Automatic Factories.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis proves there are other people still alive in the world,\u201d Robin said. These other fools were not important enough to receive Christmas cards.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His wife peered nearsightedly at the Minister\u2019s signature.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis is done by a rubber stamp, Robin,\u201d she said. \u201cIt doesn\u2019t prove anything.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now he was really enraged. To be contradicted in front of these scum! And Roberta\u2019s cheeks had grown more wrinkled since last Christmas, which also annoyed him. As he was about to flay her, however, his glance fell on the address on the envelope: it read, \u201cRobin Proctor, A.F.X10.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut this factory isn\u2019t X10!\u201d he protested aloud. \u201cIt\u2019s S.C. 541.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPerhaps we\u2019ve been in the wrong factory for thirty-five years,\u201d Roberta said. \u201cDoes it matter at all?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The question was so senseless that the old man pulled the bedclothes out of the bottom of the bed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, go and find out, you silly old woman!\u201d he shrieked. \u201cThe factory number is engraved over the output exit. Go and see what it says. If it does not say S.C. 541, we must leave here at once. Quickly!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll come with you,\u201d Jerry told the old lady.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll all go with her,\u201d Robin said. \u201cI\u2019m not having you stay here with me. You\u2019d murder me in my bed!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Without any particular surprise\u2014although Tony glanced regretfully at the empty teapot as he passed it\u2014they found themselves again in the pregnant layers of factory, making their way down to the output exit. Here, conveyor belts transported the factory\u2019s finished product outside to waiting vehicles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t like it much here,\u201d Roberta said uneasily. \u201cEven a glimpse of outside aggravates my agoraphobia.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Nevertheless, she looked where Robin had instructed her. Above the exit, a sign said \u201cX10.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRobin will never believe me when I tell him,\u201d she wailed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy guess is that the factory changed its own name,\u201d Jerry said calmly. \u201cProbably it has changed its product as well. After all, there\u2019s nobody in control; it can do what it likes. Has it always been making these eggs?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They stared silently at the endless, moving line of steel eggs. The eggs were smooth, and as big as ostrich eggs; they sailed into the open, where robots piled them into trucks and drove away with them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNever heard of a factory laying eggs before,\u201d Dusty laughed, scratching his shoulder. \u201cNow we\u2019d better get back before the Terrible Sweeper catches up with us.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Slowly they made their way back up the many, many steps.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI think it used to be television sets the factory made,\u201d Roberta said once.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf there are no more men\u2014there\u2019d be no more need for television sets,\u201d Jerry said grimly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI can\u2019t remember for sure.\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Robin, when they told him, was ill with irritation, rolling out of bed in his wrath. He threatened to go down and look at the name of the factory himself, only refraining because he had a private theory that the factory itself was merely one of Roberta\u2019s hallucinations.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd as for eggs \u2026<\/em>\u201d he stuttered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jerry dipped into a torn pocket, produced one of the eggs, and laid it on the floor. In the silence that followed, they could all hear the egg ticking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou shouldn\u2019t have done that, Jerry,\u201d Dusty said hoarsely. \u201cThat\u2019s \u2026 interfering.\u201d They all stared at Jerry, the more frightened because they did not entirely know what they were frightened about.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI brought it because I thought the factory ought to give us a Christmas present,\u201d Jerry told them dreamily, squatting down to look at the egg. \u201cYou see, a long time ago, before the machines declared all writers like me redundant, I met an old robot writer. And this old robot writer had been put out to scrap, but he told me a thing or two. He told me that, as machines took over man\u2019s duties, so they took over his myths too. Of course, they adapt the myths to their own beliefs, but I think they\u2019d like the idea of handing out Christmas presents.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dusty gave Jerry a kick which sent him sprawling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s for your idea!\u201d he said. \u201cYou\u2019re mad, Jerry boy! The machines\u2019ll come up here to get that egg back. I don\u2019t know what we ought to do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll put the tea on for some kettle,\u201d Roberta said brightly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The stupid remark made Robin explode.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTake the egg back, all of you!\u201d he shrieked. \u201cIt\u2019s stealing, that\u2019s what it is, and I won\u2019t be responsible. And then you tramps must leave the factory!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dusty and Tony looked at him helplessly, and Tony said, \u201cBut we\u2019ve got nowhere to go.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jerry, who had made himself comfortable on the floor, said without looking up, \u201cI don\u2019t want to frighten you, but the New Father Christmas will come for you, Mr. Proctor, if you aren\u2019t careful. That old Christmas myth was one of the ones the machines took over and changed; the New Father Christmas is all metal and glass, and instead of leaving new toys he takes away old people and machines.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Roberta, listening at the door, went as white as a sheet. \u201cPerhaps that\u2019s how the world has grown so depopulated recently,\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019d better get us some tea.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Robin had managed to shuffle out of bed, a ghastly irritation goading him on. As he staggered toward Jerry, the egg hatched.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It broke cleanly into two halves, revealing a pack of neat machinery. Four tiny, busy mannikins jumped out and leaped into action. In no time, using minute welders, they had forged the shell into a double dome; sounds of hammering came from underneath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey\u2019re going to build another factory right in here, the fresh things!\u201d Roberta exclaimed. She brought the kettle crashing down on the dome and failed even to dent it. At once a thin chirp filled the room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy heavens, they are broadcasting for help!\u201d Jerry exclaimed. \u201cWe\u2019ve got to get out of here at once!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They got out, Robin twittering with rage, and the New Father Christmas caught them all on the stairs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

THE END<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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