Be Someone Aliens Could Talk To
They made contact a while ago.
According to which sources you believe, the aliens first arrived anywhere from Roswell in the 1950s to Sumeria in the 2000 BCEs. Doesn’t make much difference to the aliens, they track time differently than we do anyway.
They asked to be taken to our leaders. We presented our politicians—scapegoats, silver-tongued, confident-seeming neurotics with marginally better organizational abilities, greater tolerances for cruelty, and deeper cravings for admiration and respect.
Perplexed, they asked again. So we showed them our generals and religious leaders—our most successful mass murderers, our cleverest charlatans, our most effective hypnotists.
“What?” They threw up their little gloved hands, “We have matters of intergalactic import to discuss, you have no idea how lonely it is being the only sentient life forms for light-years and light-years around. Many a time during our long journey here, we have felt like the weight of the entire universe rested upon our shoulders, and yet we had no choice. It’s up to us, always up to us.
“So when your blue marble planet hove into view and we heard intelligent music emanating from your instruments, we rejoiced. But we aren’t interested in your legitimate criminals, or your tradition-peddlers. Tell us, who do you look to for inspiration? Where are your most popular poet-philosophers, your wisest sages?”
The aliens then met our entertainers. Controversy-courting musicians, scandal-ridden social courtesans, professional pretenders, and ball-handling gladiators.
Together, all the leaders of the world flexed their power and prestige. They held up their trophies and jewels, displayed glittering rings and shiny medals. Huge banquets were brought forth featuring all the flora and fauna that were good to eat. Endless processions of military might. Incense, speeches, blessings, and all manner of pride were exhibited.
“Oh dear,” they said. “These are the people you follow? These are the ones you strive to emulate?”
Their little bald pates wrinkled as they looked around, noticing for the first time our rivers of sewage, and floating islands of garbage. Our melting ice caps, and burning forests. They saw the perpetual fear behind the masks of our richest and our poorest, the insecurities that drive us all to keep doing what we’re doing, creating more of the problems that we’re creating. That’s when it all made sense.
“By Klarn!” they cried. “Is there nobody among you who we can talk to that doesn’t want something from us, a genuine human soul with the maturity to wish the best for themselves and all those around them?”
Now it was the turn of the leaders of the world to look perplexed. They went into a huddle and contemplated what this would mean for the security of humanity. They looked at the shiny alien craft and wondered at its capacity for planetary annihilation.
“Are those laser turrets? Mind control beams? Something far worse? We can’t afford to find out. Better to nuke first and questions later.”
Just as the leader of the free world was popping the locks on the football, the aliens materialized atop his big mahogany conference table.
“Apologies,” said the aliens. “We are unfamiliar with your customs and do not know how else to get your attention. We have come to inform you that we are leaving with earth’s foremost citizens.”
The leaders laughed. They had never heard of this meek little family of average wealth and naive, homespun morals. Why would anyone want to listen to a bunch of simpletons that had never made and Who’s Who lists nor been invited to any conferences or parties?
“They treat everyone kindly, embrace cleanliness, act decisively without holding to their decisions unreasonably, and they are mostly happy,” said the aliens. “Plus, they are hilarious.”
“That’s great,” said a guru whose spiritual advice had drawn him millions of supplicants, “but why ask to meet our leaders if all you wanted were road-trip buddies?”
“Those who would make great travel companions are precisely those who should be leaders. It matters not whether you’re on a planet-sized rock or a bus-sized saucer, we are all journeying through space with no clear destination or guarantee of survival. Perhaps it is your custom to follow those who pretend to know what they are doing, we would rather make the trip with those humble enough to take things as they come and just have a good time.”
With that, the aliens left with the average family. The world’s leaders stood around in silence for a while before one of them finally spoke.
“What do they know?” said one. “Their problems are interplanetary while ours are inner-planetary.”
“I agree, it’s never that simple,” said a legislator. “But our constituents won’t understand.”
To this, all the world’s leaders agreed. And so the aliens were vilified in all the presses. While they never did bother to return, the threat of an imminent invasion fueled numerous industries, kept the economic engines of productivity burning red-hot for a great many years, and further overflowed the pockets of those in charge.