Saturday, February 12, 2011

Aliens in suburbia


This may come as a shock to you, but I am a bit of a sci-fi nut.
I'll let that settle in for a bit.
I know, I know, you wouldn't think so, not someone like me who is so consumed with mundane matters.  But I do love the genre and have found myself since a very young age looking at "normal" concepts and seeing the science fiction potential within them.

I came across this picture:




It is an artist's rendering of airships that would be meant to facilitate transportation throughout suburbia.  To me, however, the image conjures far more sinister overtones.
Doesn't the entire scene, this ivory tableau, look like an alien spaceship disgorging its unearthly occupants into the suburbs?  Look at these beings, nearly faceless yet approximations of us, gestalts or walking templates, seeking to absorb camouflage identities.  Are these humanoids here to infiltrate?  To overwhelm us not through lasers and bombs but through means more subtle and elegant?  In fact, this picture is eerily reminiscent of scenes from NBC's original version of V.  The "airship" even bears a slight resemblance to the Visitor's shuttlecraft, landing in the once placid locale of suburbia.
The suburbs.  Much ridicule has been hurled their way and with good reason.  I can say this for I am a longtime resident of a suburban area.  The phrase "cookie cutter" was invented for them.  Cookie cutter homes.  Cookie cutter lawns.  Cookie cutter restaurant franchises. Cookie cutter mindsets.  If these were real aliens landing in real suburbs, I'm guessing the suburbanites would be bunkering down in the nearest Eddie Bauer store, waiting for the worst to come.  Meanwhile, Ghost Dogg and me will be holed up in the library, protecting mankind's knowledge into the future.  After all, if the aliens are seeking suburbanites, its doubtful they'd check the library.  We'll keep watching the skies for strange aircraft while never once sacrificing a tome of Faulkner, Gibson, Burroughs, or Kerouac.
So enjoy your ill-gotten tracts of suburbs, by faceless friends.  Time is on my side.



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