October 10, 2009

The Aliens Among Us

Be kind to Aliens,
And treat them nice.
Be kind to Aliens,
Take my advice.
Be Kind to Aliens.....
And you will hear them say:
"Thank you for being kind to Aliens,
We love to be treated that way!"

--Proposed Planetary Anthem for Earth

Ok, you've read it all. Roswell. Crop Circles. Close Encounters. Slashdot. All of the hubs of Alien Conspiracy. You've parsed it out, you know it all, and you've made your call. Well, you're wrong.

The Aliens are here, and blending into your everyday life in ways so insidious you regard them as .... should I say it ... annoyances.

Here is a brief guide to three of the many Alien races you meet every day and don't even know it:


Surveillion: Natural State and Human Disguise

These folk live every libertarian and Slashdotter's nightmare: Constant and accurate surveillance of their thoughts. One might question, on an enlightened planet like our own, how they survive at all. Indeed, Surveillions live out their daily lives here on the cusp of mental mayhem.

Think of the last time you were standing at a fast food restaurant, or any other establishment where the choices are Prominently Displayed. The person in front of you, who, like you, should have read those Prominently Displayed Choices and made their selection, is then confronted by the "Chooser" who asks, "How may I help you?"

In the Surveillion mind (which is nothing like yours or mine, but small and located within their buttocks), this is like asking "Why is grandma building a cyclotron in the cornfield?" There's a stunned silence, and then a panicked reading of the choices, followed by long, long moments of indecision before they start stammering out their selection. (The planet of the Surveillions orbits it's Sun once every 14 solar years. A moment to them is approximately 37 hours to us.)

Indeed, the "Choosing" process seems so alien to them, Surveillions often make several choices: "I'll take a Rotweiller with that", or, "Can I get quartz on my burger?" In those moments you may wonder if they're from another planet, or just Southern California. Be assured they are not from Southern California, although it support their largest colony.

On the Surveillion planet, devices resembling our outdoor space heaters monitor their every thought and desire. When they walk up to a lunch counter (or their equivalent, which is unpronounceable in our language), the "Chooser" already knows what they want, and it's already prepared.

In fact, if their choice is somehow unavailable, the surveillance devices have altered the Surveillion"s brain waves to make them want something else. Likewise prepared and waiting.

Here on Earth, no such devices exist. Asked to choose, the Surveillions are thrown into a fugue state by having to decide and elucidate on their own, what they want, all the while trying to read what is essentially a foreign language. Meanwhile, hostile aliens (you and I) are grumbling behind them, muttering epithets to strange gods, and threatening their very existence.

Thank goodness they are a patient people, and don't unleash their galactic weapons of extermination, or, worse yet, tools of surveillance, on us.

Pity the Surveillions among us. They're just trying to get along. And a Happy Meal.


P2Pian: Natural State and Human Disguise

These folk are actually every Slashdotter's fantasy, and every RIAAer's nightmare.

Through ECE (Extended Cybernetic Evolution), every P2Pian's experience is shared with every other P2Pian through Active Thought Matrices (ATMs). Due to their small cranial cavity, they can only capture a week or so of experience before uploading it via a ATM, to be shared with other P2Pians. (P2Pians breed, at a minimum 14 times each month, but intercourse only results in success 10% of the time, and must involve a minimum of 3 members of the opposite sex. You do the math.)

Unfortunately for us Earthlings, "ATM" means something quite different here. So, the next time you are in a line at one of our primitive ATMs trying to withdraw bus fare to get to the Emergency Clinic, and the person in front of you appears to be entering their life history into the ATM, don't get mad.

They probably are entering their life history. They're a P2Pian, who has mistaken the ATM for an Active Thought Matrix input device.

Take pity on them. They are working with a limited keypad.


Coppernian: Natural State and Assuming Human Disguise

Through an unfortunate twist of fate, an interaction between dark matter and quantum strings has rendered the Coppernians" planet almost devoid of copper. Like us, copper is a small, but very important, part of their metabolism, so the shortage has rendered it more precious than gold, or even Metabolite.

Even more unfortunate for you and I, the Copperinians on earth don't realize that copper here is almost as plentiful as dirt, and every bit of it is still as precious to them as a bar of gold is to us.

All that aside, the Coppernians are a diminutive and gentle folk (On Coppernia, Silver is like dirt is to us, and Coppernians often spin it into hats resembling "hair" to us. You think that's odd? You think that's odd? See this.). They either hoard copper or mete it out slowly, very slowly, as a reward for seemingly small favors, like ringing up your groceries.

To them, pennies, or even dimes with copper cores, are incredibly precious. Apparently one Earth penny contains enough copper to sustain an entire Coppernian family for a solar year. In fact, in the cryptic Coppernian language "Penny" translates to "The Very Precious Token of Copper."

Coppernians are most often spotted in grocery lines, where they either pick through their coins to ensure they don't give away too many Precious Tokens of Copper, or, worse yet, parceling out the Precious Tokens to the cashier or baggers, bestowing upon them a gift of longevity and virility.

In fact, many Coppernians find employment here on earth as cashiers and baggers, so the entire process takes on the significance of a communion-like ritual, with much smiling and cooing as The Precious Tokens of Copper are counted out.

Caught behind this ritual, as you steam in impatience, think again. Do you want to be the one to interrupt a highly religious and spiritual Alien Ceremony, risking galactic revenge on Life As We Know It, or would you rather inventory the breath mints conveniently displayed in the checkout aisle?

The choice, and the Fate of the Earth, is yours.

As researched and reported on: Michael's Web

Posted by Van der Leun at October 10, 2009 3:46 PM | TrackBack
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"It is impossible to speak in such a way that you cannot be misunderstood." -- Karl Popper N.B.: Comments are moderated and may not appear immediately. Comments that exceed the obscenity or stupidity limits will be either edited or expunged.

What, then shall we afford the Couponians? Redemption?

Everyone knows that Couponians are the scourge of the galaxy; selfish to the point of grasping for extensions of the solar calendar, seeking indulgent graces from powerless cashiers who must apply to their supervisors; they are happily unconcerned that their whingy whining has atomic power that completely annihilates the best of plans for your timely foraging.

My customers-- no lie!-- expect me to cut the coupons for them. All.day.long. May they languish in some alien purgatory until they are redeemed like some soggy Green Stamp and yes, I am that old, eff you very much.


Posted by: Joan of Argghh! at October 10, 2009 5:40 PM

I almost just crushed a Shartian.

Posted by: monkeyfan at October 10, 2009 7:10 PM
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"It is impossible to speak in such a way that you cannot be misunderstood." -- Karl Popper N.B.: Comments are moderated to combat spam and may not appear immediately. Comments that exceed the obscenity or stupidity limits will be either edited or expunged.

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