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So here we are. Our planet has been invaded, and the powerful, high-tech, incomprehensible strangers are here to stay (image.space.rakuten.co.jp/lg01…). What do we do now?
Well our first step is to not be horribly slaughtered. We talked last time (bensen-daniel.deviantart.com/j…) about how any violent conflict will inevitably end in our extinction. But how do we protect ourselves? We could be sitting on something they want, and what's to stop them from killing us and taking it?
Well, once they kill us, how will they extract the resouces they want? Surely we can mine the gold or collect the opium poppies, or whatever it is they want. So we're more valuable alive than dead! Hooray! But what's to stop them from enslaving us?
We'll sell them something more complicated than monoatomic metals, that's what! We're pretty sophisticated apes, we can turn our hands to all sorts of labor. Heavy mining apparatus (not to mention genocidal pogroms) are way more expensive than factories to build, and factories can produce whatever you want them to. Yes we might not make stuff as nice as the nano-fabricated smart-matter our clients are used to, but it's a hell of a lot cheaper. But then what if they outsource their dirtiest, most horrible, most dangerous jobs to us? We could turn our home into an industrial wasteland!
Well who says we have to stay on Earth? We'll go work in the neutronium factory or build orbital condos around jupiter or whatever and send cash back to our families. More importantly, send people into space to get their educations. Yes, they might turn into something we don't recognize, but our children will know how to compete with the aliens on their own terms. Except then the aliens will import all our most talented people and leave us with a population of unemployable idiots.
So we make Earth nice. Cheap land. Low taxes. Pretty scenery. Attract eco- and cultural tourists. Maybe our galactisized grandkids will come back and bring some good ideas with them. Maybe our cultural heratige will give us an advantage when it comes to ideas and creative design. Of course, we won't come through this invasion with the same kind of lifestyle we had before, but who does?
Well our first step is to not be horribly slaughtered. We talked last time (bensen-daniel.deviantart.com/j…) about how any violent conflict will inevitably end in our extinction. But how do we protect ourselves? We could be sitting on something they want, and what's to stop them from killing us and taking it?
Well, once they kill us, how will they extract the resouces they want? Surely we can mine the gold or collect the opium poppies, or whatever it is they want. So we're more valuable alive than dead! Hooray! But what's to stop them from enslaving us?
We'll sell them something more complicated than monoatomic metals, that's what! We're pretty sophisticated apes, we can turn our hands to all sorts of labor. Heavy mining apparatus (not to mention genocidal pogroms) are way more expensive than factories to build, and factories can produce whatever you want them to. Yes we might not make stuff as nice as the nano-fabricated smart-matter our clients are used to, but it's a hell of a lot cheaper. But then what if they outsource their dirtiest, most horrible, most dangerous jobs to us? We could turn our home into an industrial wasteland!
Well who says we have to stay on Earth? We'll go work in the neutronium factory or build orbital condos around jupiter or whatever and send cash back to our families. More importantly, send people into space to get their educations. Yes, they might turn into something we don't recognize, but our children will know how to compete with the aliens on their own terms. Except then the aliens will import all our most talented people and leave us with a population of unemployable idiots.
So we make Earth nice. Cheap land. Low taxes. Pretty scenery. Attract eco- and cultural tourists. Maybe our galactisized grandkids will come back and bring some good ideas with them. Maybe our cultural heratige will give us an advantage when it comes to ideas and creative design. Of course, we won't come through this invasion with the same kind of lifestyle we had before, but who does?
Fellow Tetrapod
Alright, here we go! My speculative-evolution serial novel Fellow Tetrapod is finally live on Royal Road. Go check it out. If it looks like your sort of thing, follow the story. It updates every weekday. (if you want to know more…) Koenraad Robbert Ruis used to be a paleontologist, but now he’s a cook at the United Nations embassy to the Convention of Sophonts. His bosses must negotiate with intelligent species from countless alternate earths, and Koen must make them breakfast. It turns out, though, that Koen is rather better at inter-species communication than any other human in this world (all nine of them). Everyone loves to eat (certain autotrophs excepted). Fellow Tetrapod is an speculative-evolution office comedy about food preparation, diplomacy, and what it’s like to be a talking animal. Serialized every weekday on Royal Road (https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/59198/fellow-tetrapod) and (one week earlier) Patreon(https://www.patreon.com/danielmbensen) Cover art by Simon
The Cicada
So, there I was, stalking the East Aegean cicada*. Its insistent, gearbox cough rose out of the electric pulse of the other insect life on the hillside behind the restaurant in northern Greece. When the buzzing stopped, I knew I was close, but it still took me another minute of looking before I picked it out against the bark of a sycamore**. The bug's spotted olive-gray shell matched the tree perfectly, but its symmetry gave it away. I called over Maggie and her cousin and pointed the cicada out to them. They went off to find a half dozen cast-off molts. I showed them the folded, piercing mouth-parts, telling the girls how the nymphs suck sap from tree roots until they climb out of the ground and molt into adults with wings but no mouths. If that's a metaphor, I don't want to use it. And I don't have to! Doing research for this newsletter, I found out that at least some adult cicadas do feed. Anyway, so do I. The reason we were at this restaurant in the first place is because I was
Doing Good
So there we were, giving this stranger 200 leva. "What? Are you serious?" He wasn't being sarcastic. He really wanted to check that what he thought was happening was actually happening. His face scrunched up, trying not to cry. That was when I was finally sure this wasn't all a scam. read on
Congratulations, Your Nightmare Came True
(see posts like this a week earlier on my Patreon for $1 a month) Our little blue car emerged from the tunnel and hummed up Botevgradsko Boulevard. To our left: a mural of chains melting off someone's forearms. The kids were looking out the windows, there was nobody to interrupt us and nothing that needed cleaning, and I relished the ability to complete a thought. "Ha!" I said. "What?" asked Pavlina. We stopped at a red light. "Congratulations," I said. "My nightmare came true. I've been called a racist on the internet." "Well, not exactly," said Pavlina. "Okay, I was called – " I corrected myself, " – my work was called 'problematic' in an email. That's like halfway there. That's a benchmark." "Yeah, okay. Congratulations." She wasn't being sarcastic. We turned and headed south toward Mount Vitosha, and I burned with joy. (see pictures and good formatting here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/63082454 ) In Man's Search for Meaning, psychologist Viktor Frankl talks about his brand of
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And aliens have needs too, right. I'm sure that Earth isn't the only place where sexual deviants can be found.