I don’t know how, with so little interest or – more
accurately – skill in science, I managed to have my imagination captured so
powerfully by science-fiction. I mean, I used to watch Star Trek and the Star
Wars films when I was younger but it was a passing interest; superficial. These
things were something to vegetate to and nothing else. Perhaps that is why I
never noticed the philosophical or scientific ideas these franchises dealt with
(especially, Star Trek; Star Wars was a far more fantastical, straight-forward
affair). However, when I read 1984 and realised that this book could be
described as science-fiction, and then I encountered The Forever War – well,
then I realised sci-fi had something to say. After that, I couldn’t get enough.
Hard or soft; philosophical or scientific; ‘operatic’ or otherwise – you name
it, I’d read it. That sense of wonder, some kind of poignancy or a combination
of the two turned me into a sci-fi geek of rarely paralleled magnitude. To take
our knowledge and then to take it to its limits and then beyond into realms
previously unimagined was an exercise that captured me completely.
So when my friend Andy Clarke asked if I wanted to go to the
sci-fi convention coming to our university, I jumped at the chance. Complete
with opportunities to meet like-minded readers and a few authors too, how could
a nerd like me decline? He was more of a film and television informed fanatic
while I was certainly drawn to the literature. I guess that had to do with him
studying Film and Media and me studying Creative Writing. However, our
fanaticisms did overlap and we had other related interests – namely gambling
and drinking. What could be a more idyllic situation than two student friends enjoying
a science-fiction convention together and following it up with a trip to a
casino and a finale in a club? We thought nothing could surpass such a day. In
many ways, we were right.
The convention had a range of seminars and lectures as well
as tables selling various wares – independently published works; obscure film
stalls; all sorts of weird paraphernalia and memorabilia etc., etc. One of the
earlier seminars – ‘The Subject of the Alien’ – was a meeting we both wished to
attend. Then there were a couple that interested one of us but not the other. I
wanted to check out a lecture on science fiction and social criticism while
Andy was interested in looking at a presentation on the evolution of
computer-generated animation and its effect on sci-fi horror. We agreed that
our plan was thus: attend the first seminar together; reconvene outside for a
pint or two; go our separate ways for a bit; check the stalls together; and,
finally, back to the uni bar before the casino. Perfect.
On we ventured to that first seminar. We sat round the
seminar room and we recognised the person leading the meeting. He was a
masters’ student that we had seen around the university. We hadn’t really
spoken to him before but he was quite an eccentric character that liked to draw
attention to himself. Once everyone was settled he said some words as an
introduction. A bit of unnecessary bluster to set the tone:
“Hello and welcome. Obviously, most of this should come from
you lot, this is a seminar and not a lecture. However, I’ll just say a few
words to get the ball rolling, so to speak.
“Aliens have been an area of human intrigue for a long, long
time. Undeniably, an encounter of the third kind would totally disrupt the way
we view our world, our universe and our place within it. As a case in point, a
Catholic bishop conceded that, when we consider the vastness of the universe,
there could be a planet with humanoid aliens that would be very much like us.
Physically speaking, these aliens would also be made in God’s image but, they
could be free from ‘original sin’. Where would this leave conversion and
redemption? Where would this leave Jesus? And Catholicism? If these aliens
would not need Jesus to get into Heaven would this be like a planet inhabited
by Jews? The mind boggles!
“Still, aliens have inspired various reactions and thoughts.
The two most frequent responses are fear and ridicule. This seems logical when
we consider general human attitudes related to the unknown. Both attitudes can
be seen in the xenophobia of small-minded people. White people feeling unsure
of themselves in Harlem. The patronising mockery of other groups and their
rites and customs that are arguably no more ludicrous than our own, but merely
different. We might be unimpressed with the imperialists of the past and their
attempts to bring civility to supposedly more primitive cultures but we can
assume that they made these attempts with a light-heart. And perhaps that’s
where the fear of the alien invasion comes from. We have seen what happens when
a technologically superior group encounters an inferior other. Maybe it is not
the ‘alien’ we fear in the alien we may encounter but, rather, how close to us
they could be.
“Anyway, that’s enough waffling from me. There’s some fat to
chew on. Would anyone like to raise any points of discussion?”
Despite being quite a lot of hot air, the guy’s introduction
did inspire a starting point as we went with the wondering of an alien
invasion. First, someone started by talking about the fear such ideas instil,
citing War of the Worlds as an example. Someone agreed and pointed out how much
chaos was created when Wells’ book was translated and broadcasted over the
radio, with many listeners believing it to be true. Andy agreed and also talked
about the unifying nature of an alien invasion. As a highly deplorable example
he went for the film Independence Day that invoked the inevitable groans from
more snobbish circles. He conceded it was offensively US-centric but the human
race does become united. This is shown in the most crass manner, where the
final fight between the humans and the invading alien force is on July 4th.
The day becomes independence day for the world, led by the US. He drew this
back to the masters’ student’s point about our fear of the other but pointed
out that it made us realise the ‘other’ we see in different human cultures and
personalities was marginal when compared to the ‘other’ in an alien species.
Andy then continued by arguing how the alien could just as
easily instil wonder and warmth, using the example of ET. He pointed out that
the film made us realise that, in some cases, humans can remain the greater
danger, the greater evil. I agreed and referred to Arthur C. Clarke’s – no
relation of Andy’s – Rendezvous with Rama. I said in that book a wide range of
human emotions are considered in reaction to the sudden arrival of an alien
vessel. There was intrigue, awe, fear and reverence. At points, there was anger
at a perceived threat that resulted in some humans being the more dangerous and
the real threat. I said that anything alien is likely to spark a whole host of
strong emotions. I concluded that an alien encounter could be anything except
for one: it could never be dull. Everyone agreed. The discussion continued as
different people shared their imaginings and theories of what an alien race
that travelled to us would be like – physically, mentally and culturally. Some
of the ideas were fascinating, involving theories of how variations in gravity
or the chemical make-up of the atmosphere could produce certain differences.
I’ll be honest, this whole area was rather too scientific for my limited mind
but I was amazed how accomplished certain theories sounded and how convincing
these people’s conceptualisations appeared.
After a while, the leading student wrapped things up:
“This subject allows for so much speculation that it is
unlikely to ever be exhausted. In this hour, we have barely tapped into a
fraction of the possible avenues of thought and discussion. However, one thing
I would like to give you all to think about and consider is that an alien
encounter goes two ways. Just as we are likely to be hit by a variety of
concerns, they too are likely to be considering us as a new great unknown.
Unless they study us intently beforehand, they will not know how many alien
races we have encountered. Both races, no doubt, will have to approach with
caution. However, I think we can all agree, as one of us has said: whatever it
will be, an encounter will be anything other than dull. Thank you for
attending, I hope you have found this interesting. Venture forth safely,
people.”
And then everyone got up and left, me feeling pretty chuffed
at being referred to in the concluding remark. Andy and I moved outside and
agreed that the guy leading the session, who we had noticed around campus,
appeared to be a bit of a twat. However, we did agree that the meeting was good
and worth our attendance.
And like that, it happened.
The spaceship had barely materialised before the alien was
in front of me. It threw something at my face and then I heard a sound that was
something like a vacuum cleaner’s sucking noise. When I returned from flinching
at whatever the alien had thrown, I realised that everything had stood still. I
looked round and everything was frozen. I looked at myself; I appeared to be
wearing an all-in-one, black bodysuit. I could feel it over my face. I looked
at the alien and it looked almost identical to what I imagined I must have
looked like; like a silhouette, a shadow. However, it was taller than I. I was
stunned silent. The alien was not.
“Look, I’m sure this is very interesting for you but I’m in
a bit of a hurry, I must get on as soon as possible. I have run out of material
that one can use to sweeten a drink. Do you have any sweetening produce?”
“Like sugar?”
“Sugar? Probably.”
“I can understand you,” I said, matter-of-factly and far
less flabbergasted than expected.
“Yes. A very quick explanation but we must move on: You are
wearing a suit that has a built-in translator, motherfucker. My ship developed
an understanding of your language through communications it picked up when
nearing your orbit.”
“Motherfucker?”
“It has informed me that this is a term that is used amongst
people that are being civil with each other.”
“It’s not. It’s the opposite.”
“Well, it has made an error. Is he not your motherfucker?”
He pointed to Andy, who was acting very much like a statue.
“Him? He’s my friend.”
“Fine, friend. I would like some sugar.”
“Why is everyone frozen?”
It sighed. The sigh sounded strange through the translator.
“They’re not frozen. These suits, as well as making us
understand each other have enabled us to experience and move at a rate 3600
times faster than everyone else. This means a second to us is an hour to them.
This is getting tedious. Please let me try some sugar and take some with me if
I think it will satisfy my needs.”
So I did. I took the alien to get some sugar. It tasted it
through the fabric of the suit, nodded and then I escorted it outside. It then
lifted its hands, the suit came off me and I saw the spaceship disappear. I
imagine the suit had some sort of tranquilising effect on me because I acted
much calmer than I imagined I would and when I returned to reality (though I
never left it) I was hysterical. Lots of people were stunned and there was
excited muttering that there had definitely been a spaceship in the sky, for at
least a second. In time, people decided it must have been a prank, a projection
done by some clown to scare the sci-fi nerds – probably done by the convention
organisers themselves. Of course, for me, the experience lasted much longer and
was much more real, more tangible and impossible to deny. For me, it had lasted
twenty-five minutes. It was bizarre. Potentially life-changing.
Except that it wasn’t. The implications, long-term, were
nothing; it was a wholly mundane experience. It all happened too quickly for
anyone else to take it seriously and so it was quickly forgotten. And as for
me, well, what is there of value to recollect? Although I couldn’t get a look
of the alien through its bodysuit it was certainly humanoid in shape. Something
for the Catholics to consider, certainly. In other ways, it was depressingly
human – largely self-interested and short-tempered. It got what it wanted and
then left. Sounds like quite a few students at the university that I could
mention.
With the speed at which it happened for everyone else and
the shameful lack of information I acquired, this encounter was not going to
change the world. Depressingly, in contradiction to the conclusion of the
seminar, if you reviewed the scene objectively, it was incredibly dull – a guy
coming over to borrow some sugar.
Still, this should not dishearten our love for
science-fiction, which always has the potential to be more exciting than the
reality. Yes, it offers us a form of escapism but it also offers us a platform
to imagine and to philosophise. And there lies its power. As long as it
entertains, who cares if all our true alien encounters are as disappointing as
the one above? I looked on the internet for a quote on science-fiction and have
decided to sign off with the words of the (sadly) recently late and immeasurably
great Ray Bradbury:
“Science fiction is the most important literature in the
history of the world, because it’s the history of ideas, the history of our
ideas birthing itself…Science fiction is central to everything we’ve ever done
and people who make fun of science fiction writers don’t know what they’re
talking about.”
Quite so.
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