On any ordinary day-to the extent that there are such things-I see an awful lot of aliens. Most are Greys, and their olivine, inky eyes make it hard to notice their egged, practically ovulating, faces. Come to think of it, most of them...
moreOn any ordinary day-to the extent that there are such things-I see an awful lot of aliens. Most are Greys, and their olivine, inky eyes make it hard to notice their egged, practically ovulating, faces. Come to think of it, most of them are nothing but face, transplanted ocelli alighting on backpacks, skateboards, bumper stickers, tattoos. And none of them move. Not even a little. Are my eyes themselves arrested here? These aliens are, strictly speaking, liquid, conforming to the space of their containers, miming the rhythm of their vehicles, veritably bouncing from one signifying surface to another: news wire report becomes retracted becomes rumor becomes Area becomes series: Roswell. 1 When I am not looking, or, I guess, even when I am, they seem to replicate. I mean, how else did so many of them suddenly, yet unmistakably, arrive? Unless you have been in a coma since -and, perhaps, even if you have-you have seen them too. Don't pretend. I know, it's a bit embarrassing. I can't remember the first time I saw one, if there was a first time. It's as if they have always been there and I simply have no memory of them. Do they, like any fit object of a paranoid narrative, remove evidence of Close Encounters of the Nth Kind their past existence, wipe our memories clean even as we gaze on, through them? From early childhood, I recall an enormous hypodermic, the sudden arrival of needle and plunger at the age of three, an incident with a broken leg. I can flash back to the taste of orange soda in a can at the age of five, a creamsicle, picnics gone awry, kisses and anguish, a buffet lunch from weeks ago. Why can't I remember the first time I saw an alien? Maybe it is only now that these uncanny guests are literally able to appear, to become stickers, film images, patches, -shirts, bongs. .. Perhaps, even, there is something about the present that forces them to appear, that flushes them out of the sky and onto an icon that replicates across our increasingly networked infoscape. Less beings of representation than proliferation, aliens arrive with news of a massively global, evolutionary transformation: the Earth become citational network. Of course, the biologist Lynn Margulis, in recuperating and buttressing the work of early-twentieth-century researchers such as Vernadsky, has demonstrated that the Earth has long been such a mesh of connections, but it is only relatively recently that this interconnection has again become an object of scientific consciousness. Through processes both technological and social in nature, the Earth has become less globe than mesh, each and every location of which is liable to sprout an alien. If the ''Big Blue Marble'' images of the Earth from space were extraterrestrial citations that provoked a sense of unity, then the proliferating icons of the alien image-Look, there's another one!-renders a networked ubiquity. 2 The movement from Gaia to the alien is topological in effect, as the Big Blue Marble goes inside out, imploding into itself as every surface on the Earth becomes, in principle, interconnected with any other, ready for an alien sticker or maybe a Starbucks. .. It is in this sense that the alien presents an impossible vision: the visualization of an always mobile and differentiating network, our increasingly informatic biosphere.