Attending a Science Fiction Convention with an Alien Disguise, Fiction Fragment

👽👽👽

First Alien, sits down on alien couch-equivalent: Oof.

Second Alien: Tough debriefing?

First Alien: My reward is a month on fourth shift to give me the opportunity to reflect.

Second Alien: I take it the outing to the science fiction convention did not go well?

First Alien: Worse than the dog show. [Faces In The Crowd]

Second Alien: Ouch.

First Alien: Well, okay, no one got bitten, no one got abducted, and humanity still doesn’t know that aliens are watching. Other than that, I cannot add a single leaf to the mural of knowledge. I was playing catch-up the entire time.

Second Alien: What was the problem? Or problems?

First Alien: The main problem, really the only problem, was that I did not blend in. At all.

Second Alien: I thought that was the whole point of infiltrating the science fiction convention. You would be just one of many shapes of intelligence.

First Alien: Exactly!

Second Alien: (flinches)

First Alien: Extend me grace for hurting your ears. But it was such a good plan. It should have worked.

Second Alien: When did it start to go wrong?

First Alien: From the very beginning. People kept asking what book or movie or web comic I was from. Turns out most of the costumes are referential.

Second Alien: So there were rules.

First Alien: Not so much rules as norms. Sometimes the costume brings a specific character to life. There was a Weeping Angel that quite gave me the shivers. Sometimes there is a creative spin. Combining a character from one place to another. Orcs as Storm Troopers. Sometimes there is interpretation. What a superhero would look like after retirement. The level of technical ability was high, given that they don’t have matter extruders.

Second Alien: Isn’t our aim to discover human norms?

First Alien: The debriefing dialogue participants felt the area of discovery was too narrow. Perhaps it could be combined with the norms from other subgroups at a later time. But I think they were just throwing me a bone.

Second Alien: Throwing a bone?

First Alien: Dog show flashback. Nevermind.

Second Alien: What did you do?

First Alien: I tried referencing an obscure old book. The first person I talked to knew the book, knew the aliens in the book, and politely told me that those aliens were red and marine-based. Alright, the color is wrong, but marine-based? Marine-based! What does that provincial, backwater human think these are? They want gills? I’ll give them gills! Sure, they are not the gills on the fish they dragged out of the river for their dinner last night …

Second Alien: I think you need a moment of tranquility.

First Alien: (respires)

Second Alien: Better?

First Alien: Thank you. I will chose to look upon the positive, supportive gesture that several individuals told me where I could go to get help with my costume.

Second Alien (not laughing, not in the slightest): Then what?

First Alien: I tried saying that I was doing my own thing. I made up a name and a few random facts.

Second Alien: That sounds like a good plan.

First Alien: You’d think so, wouldn’t you? They all wanted to know what my book was about. Was I publishing trad or indie? Where was my podcast? They wanted to follow me on social media. These folks are insatiably curious. They kept having more questions. Always more questions.

Second Alien: Couldn’t you use the disguise you have used before?

First Alien: I didn’t take it. I didn’t think I’d need it. That was the whole point of attending a science fiction convention.

Second Alien: Did you get any advice?

First Alien: From humans, yes. From us, no. You know how it is. You are not supposed to make contact unless in dire need. The fact that my personal credibility was taking a nose dive did not constitute dire need for the communal good. I will become tranquil about it. After all, someone has to take fourth shift.

👽👽👽