Dress Rehearsal

"The universe is expanding".     There's cause for reflection and bound to do wonders     for "who am I" queries.     At this late moment on the Celestial Clock, man isn't     sure if he's stumbled into a Black Hole or just the     debris from the Big Bang Theory.     Many of the earth's residents desperately want to be     E.T.'s    -    travellers with carte blanche passports     welcomed in any galaxy. Therein lies the ultimate     twist to "getting away".     Alas, what if we're alone?     What if the universe expands so much it forgets     there's an inhabited world and obscures the planet     from our collective vision? Sobering stuff.     Meanwhile, on a spaceship earth preparations are     underway. Preparation to abandon the planet.     Preparations to forget life is a serious matter.     Preparations to drown protracted speculations about     existence's intensity.     E.T. mania is carrying the day. People adorn stuffed,     life-sized dolls of imagined creatures on the     dashboards of their cars. Children queque up for     hours to get gingerbread designed from scary,     monster dough. Everywhere, the question on     everyone's lips is "how many of'em are there"?     When will contact be made? Will they want to throw     in their lot with mankind or "take over"? After all, it's     our Arc. No one seriously wants reminders of Von     Daniken's chariots riding again or the genetic mumble     about intergalactic breeding.     Going to bed with E.T. is too much. It's the Outer     Limits. Propriety still has some hold even if Marian     Engel did slip up and get it on with a bear. At least     that was recognizable earth life. Darth is too much of     a transition even if it's only a One Night Stand.     E.T. is just like Bambi.     He wants to go home.     And alone.     He's not interested in sex.     Too many other myriad problems are floating in his     adorable, gelatin head. Surely earth women can relate     to that. Surely, if the universe is expanding, then it's     because of intrigue in high places. Because cosmic     particles are hammering out new definitions. Anyone     of a thousand theories.     Star Wars can stuff it. We want "peaceful" contact     and on our terms. Ask Orson Welles.     Or H.G.Wells.     Time machines are old hat and another invasion in     Newark is too much to absorb.     With NYC across the river, they've already got all the     action they can handle.     We like our extraterrestial life tailormade and     preferably in our own image. We're prepared to accept     them if they conform to stiff criteria. They have to be     like us and prepared to cooperate. Seeing eye dogs     help the blind, horses were good draft animals for     centuries. We might even want to decorate it like the     Hindoos do elephants; make it into a "religious"     procession such as a Roman Triumph. It would be the     same for outer space visitors. No mutants or Roving     Intelligences allowed. Earth is "off limits" to     marauding predators    -    we'll fight at the suggestion     they're here on "reconnoitering missions" as a prelude     to Conquest or the Bermuda Triangle is one of their     many "staging areas" or dress rehearsal sites.     Earth for humankind carries more immediacy than     "Canada for the Canadians". If they are "out there",     they'd better behave.     Hollywood's got it all figured out.     There's no shortage or scenarios.     Life support systems will be rushed wherever there is     a sighting with artillery back-up.     The Pentagon is in control.     The Moonies have asked to be informed.     Crackpots the world over await deliverance.     The Earth has big plans for the visitation.     Contact would displace Ihe Copernician revolution as     "a first" in blockbuster events: edge out Columbus'     hat trick, even erase Caesar's Gaelic campaigns.     Such things are no longer "relatable".     Every school kid can fathom "aliens" even if he can't     decline a Latin noun or understand the causes of the Renaissance.     Unveiling the first spaceship would cap the     evolutionary quest for Enlightenment or realization of a greater Oneness.     The universal thirst for knowledge would be satisfied.     Still, our trek to the stars would turn in on itself if they     got here first. Something like the Seminoles arriving     in Paris in the 13th century overland from Nice or     finding an orangutan piloted the Viking ship, Sutton     Hoo, into Vineland. It's barely credible and has to be     remade into "tangible" dialogue. No sapient, red     puddles or Dryads need apply. Fuel up the     Crematoria. Break out the electric cattle prods. They     may be common as blades of grass in a meadow but it's     our show. Orange Pekoe intellects will naturally be     suspect. Benign intelligence better be the order of the day.     Earth is a "closed shop".     Everything Koltur. Everything above board.     No renegade "interpretations".     When will the Juggernaut be?     Human nature is nothing to toy with.