Maybe I’m an extra-terrestrial:
Of an evening when all tasks are done that require no serious thinking I sometimes slouch on the couch and watch the boob tube.  My favorites are the history channel and the science channel.  But they seem less active than in the past.  History seems to have become military history.  I’ve seen enough bombs taking out occupied buildings.  The science channel seems stuck on how the universe works.  That’s fine, but I think I’ve got it and besides I have my own ideas which the mainstream, not to mention TV, never considers. 

So I roll over to a channel where they are hunting ghosts.  That shows generally less imagination and inferior production values and gets old pretty quick.  So I take a look at what they are saying about extra-terrestrial aliens.

One thing that comes up is that some cultures have bound the heads of babies to flatten them fore and aft.  This seems to be cold fact.  The reason is said to be that they want to make the babies grow up to look like extra-terrestrials.  That is speculative to say the least.  At the very minimum you’d like to have some sort of record that they said as much.  But let’s go with it.

I was in the grocery store the other day and found I was looking at a monitor fed by a security camera directly to my left.  I was privileged to see myself in profile.  It was not the most elevating experience.  But when I looked at my head I thought, “They weren’t making the babies look like extra-terrestrials.  They were making them look like me.” 

Compared to the rest of the world Europeans have rather long, narrow heads.  My head is shaped more like a lollypop.  The top of the skull is a bit like the Opera House in Sidney, but that’s not conspicuous.  The back is flat. 

“Aha,” quoth I, “Maybe I’m one of Them.  Where those that take us?” 

Well the first question is what am I doing here?  I must be in exile or they would be in touch.  They aren’t. 

Why was I exiled?  Well the mission must have been to wipe out humanity because humanity is being wiped out and if there are any ET’s out there they certainly have the power to fix that.  So I was objecting to the mission.  I suppose my attitude was, “They’re strange looking.  They’re willfully stupid.  They are incredibly cruel.  But I think there is hope for them.  They maybe capable of good.”  If we had been humans it would have been out the air-lock with me.  But they may have principles against that sort of thing.  That’s why they are taking us out gradually with infertility rather than simply zapping us.  Nobody really suffers.  We just all disappear. 

So how did I get here?  I was born good and proper – birth certificate, mother’s memory and all.  One would have to assume that the consciousness is in the body but not of the body.  The same consciousness could be transferred into a computer or a different body.  I don’t think that’s true.  I’m just following the line of reasoning.  So they dinked around with my DNA to make sure that my brain would be suitable for the alien mind, gave me a body that would be strong, durable, and tireless, all around a good vehicle and chose really great parents.  Then they let me live out my life.  I suppose I got a treatment with the neuralyzer. 

So what would I be like as an alien mind?  Well I would look at things and see different possibility from what other people would see.  Sure enough, I invented the World Ender (Never mind.  You never saw one.), came up with a unique cosmology and most crucially saw what was doing things to us demographically. 

I write.  I always wanted to write.  But I am an exceedingly unpopular author.  In all these years I just might have collected two dozen regular readers.  (Hi, guys.  Glad you came.)  My style is distinctive.  People come to the internet for entertainment and even more for information.  I try to provide both.  And what you get here is nothing like what you’ll get anywhere else.  Given a monopoly on a product and anything like a market I should be drawing people like nobodies business.  Tain’t true. 

Most people like sunshine: I like rain.  Most people like music with many notes sounding at once quite loud; I like one at a time and soft.  Most people would rather face danger with company; I prefer to face danger alone.  Most people travel with traffic; I travel through traffic as if it were part of the landscape.  Many people will cut you off in traffic deliberately; I try never to cut anybody off.  Men like women and try to control them; I worship them.  And so it goes.  

So the circumstantial evidence falls into place.

What should I do next?  Well I should do what got me into trouble in the first place.  Tell the world how to survive. 

In that case don’t bother looking for signals from space.  I’m right here.  You can write me at  That’s handy enough.  If I had a flying saucer to step out of onto the White House lawn I’d probably get shot.  So that’s no good even if I could build one.  (I’ve already given you the design.) 

Well I’m not done yet.  Give me another year or two.  Maybe I can get this together.

I mean assuming that I’m really an ET.

Which I’m not.

I think.

By the way, they have another picture of an iguana like rock on Mars.

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