Friday, January 8, 2010

Space Rocks and Elvis in a Flying Metal Box


I'm so tired of the egotistical, mammal-centric view we seem to hold
true when it comes to science fiction.  Every alien has two arms, two
legs, two eyes, two ears, a nose (of some form or another) and so on.
Sure, we dress them up with scales, gills, feathers, and bumps and crap,
but always the same form factor. Even when we step outside our bi-ped
box and make something like Jaba the Hut, it's got something that leads
us to believe it has a face and we can converse with it.

What if we're wrong?  What if they look like a steaming pile of dung?

I'm serious.

What if "aliens" exude a horrifically bad smell?  What happens if we
cringe and pinch our noses?  Does that provoke an intergalactic war?

So we start shooting space "probes" out into the ether, usually loaded
up with garage sale junk like rocks (http://bit.ly/7bCsUD), Elvis
recordings or pictures of our illustrious presidents.  What happens when
the gargaloids creatures are wandering around their soupy,
non-solidified planet and our chunk of metal with Elvis songs and space
rocks crashes into their domicile?  They "look" at the contents, strewn
across the living space, trailing off from the center of impact, which
was directly on top of junior's baby crib. Then suddenly, out of the
silence Elvis' "Hound Dog" starts playing and a picture of Barrack Obama
or George Bush falls out with a caption print that says "Greetings from
Planet Earth! - President___"  Now they huddle and form a mission to
travel to our planet, find this president guy and repay the greeting.
Sounds like a great movie script to me.
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