Feels like spring around here. The sun is bright and warm off the glacier. Pictures of my hilltop at left.
It is melting a bit. Hit 40 today. That was nice.
I thought about aliens again today. I have something else to write but I couldn't stop thinking of aliens. Elizabeth had to go and mention X Files and I got all Spooky Mulder about it.
Fashion models. They could be aliens. They're not like anyone else. Maybe they are able to synthesize nutrition from diet coke and cotton balls. Good disguise.
I was thinking about interstellar travel. Now, without resorting to "fucking magic" (which is a technical term among science fiction writers), how does one get from star to star. Answer: you don't in a universe ruled by Einstein. You send a proxy.
If you were an inquisitive race with sufficient technology, you might send drones. You might send extremely small drones. These you'd have construct the bio-mechanical means of exploration and observation once they arrived where you sent them.
Perhaps the form of those bio-mechanical explorers are more familiar than you'd initially suspect.
It's hardly an original idea. I'm thinking of the imperatives of life on this planet: propagate. Everything expands to the limits of available resources. Is that universal?
So. That girl in the third row of the poetry class you took in college? You know the one. Maybe she wasn't what she seemed.
I believe in unreliable gods. No bush has ever burst into flame and spoke to me. I have to admit that passing out engraved stone tablets two-thirds of the way up a mountain does seem like a pretty fair bit of social engineering for a sufficiently advanced alien entity. It has the right flavor of the absurd.
If you shoot one of my aliens, what happens? Do they flop like Daryl Hanna in Blade Runner?
I'm thinking. Shortly, I'll be writing.
You should do the same. Unless ... you're an alien in which case you should go out an observe local culture.
The human race: two drink minimum.
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