A Cocktail Heavy on the Fiction

Breaking down science-fiction is not difficult, especially since I am not a scientific type of person. It doesn't take extensive knowledge of theories or studies to find gaps in sci-fi's hideously overstated world. It just takes a talent for pettiness. Which I have.

One of the most common errors in science-fiction is the assumption that all interplanetary life-forms are similar to those found here on Earth, especially humans and humanoids. This assumption causes alien beings to generally have a method of spoken communication, either using their own faculties or making something speak for them. Bearing this fallacy in mind, English-speaking extraterrestrials with region-specific accents from Earth are appalling. Even cardinal sins in the entire fiction genre. In the immeasurable concept of universal time, thinking all alien-beings would pick a specific period of time, smaller than a pinpoint in the seas of eternity, is stupid. You, as a writer, can place any amount of knowledge in the aliens’ dialogue, but it’s quickly voided by the limited nature of language, and the oversight of assigning these "superior" beings accents from our terrestrial world adds further to transgression, thus becoming unforgivable.

An anthropomorphic theme throughout this genre prescribes all of the human anatomy, and its limitations, to these beings, as well. Is there no other sensory organ that can communicate the details of light bouncing off of one's immediate environment to its user other than the eye? Is there no other means of articulating with an environment other than using limbs with limited reach, and unreliable sensory input? Aren’t these some of the same human weaknesses science-fiction is supposed to be pointing out and subsequently overcoming? The mortality of these beings is often in question, also. The more human an alien species is to Earth, the greater the chance writers will make this species immortal, or close to being immortal. And, inversely, the less human are the more frail, and the less human-like creatures are also portrayed as far more innocent and harmless than the more human-like, as well.

These life-forms are even subscribed to the reasoning of organisms found on Earth. Since when would lovers of science, the study of the endless truths and possibilities of existence, harbor all of their creations within so many boundaries? There could very well be creatures in the universe who have no concept of life and death. That, alone, would wreak havoc on the storylines of all of science-fiction, because "life and death" embodies all that we know as living beings. Every theme, every conflict, every decision made in our Earthly home is based on this dichotomy, alone. If there was even a third option, which we could not easily fathom, and just one author was to come up with a snippet of a short story about it, the entire genre of science-fiction would be made eternally obsolete.

We have no way of knowing how the life on other planets would behave. Would they be part of a social infrastructure? Would they be sentient beings, or more akin to single-celled organisms? Or, would they just be a deeply rooted part of a symbiotic, systematic environment?

Life on other planets might not be as interesting as we’re all hoping. It might be as negligible as the microbes living on your face, right this second. It might be as harmonious as the Utopian societies of Aristotle. It might involve sentient beings, far superior to mankind, with all of the qualities of the human anatomy and physiology, and their social system might be so strongly functional that even the fallacies of humankind would become powerless to cause any disruption.

Or they might be nothing more than an incurable disease that wipes out every other living thing exposed to them. Maybe they truly are a hive-minded race of killers looking to overthrow any planets in their way. They could even be ugly, monstrous creatures that make annoying sounds, smell terrible and embody every person's pet-peeves.

It’s obvious that science-fiction is, at its core, satire and hyperbole, functionally supporting the idea that humans are stupid, idiot-morons who will eliminate either the planet, or themselves to the point of extinction. When the animals that are left take over, that’s when the world will be at peace, because people are a disease, ravaging the planet, guided by greed, idealism, and short-sighted selfishness. That’s the ultimate message of science fiction: "Watch out for the future, ‘cause whatever our current path of life is will surely lead us all to extinction."

Isn’t that already painfully obvious?