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Now we are really sailing off into terra incognito. "Here be dragons" and all that. But if you have starships, you almost have to have aliens (Isaac Asimov's Foundation trilogy being the most notable exception). The "science" is called Astrobiology, the famous "science in search of a subject". Unfortunately it only offers vague generalities. You can keep up on the latest news, but for now if you want aliens, you are going to have to create them yourself.
ALIENS. Intelligent races who are not EARTH HUMANS. The term as such is never used for non-intelligent species, however unearthly, though in TECHJARGON these may be called Alien Life Forms. Nor is it used for Earth Humans who must register with the immigration service. In general, Aliens fall into two distinct groups, REALLY ALIENS and ALIENS WITH FOREHEAD RIDGES.
1) Really Aliens are truly unearthly. Frequently reported species include Energy Beings, HIVE ENTITIES, Giant Insectoids (who may also be Hive Entities), and Blobs of Protoplasm. The occasional intelligent bear or radish may also appear, or practically anything else. Except for the Energy Beings, most seem to be hydrocarbon life forms, but methane breathers who thrive at -200 C will sometimes turn up.
What they all have in common is that they are Really Alien. Exosemanticists have their work cut out understanding them, and exopsychologists in figuring out what they're all about. Relations between humans and Really Aliens are necessarily limited, since we have so little in common with them. Only rarely will anybody get to know one on a personal level. TRADE with them is sporadic, and even WARFARE seems less frequent than it used to be in the GOLDEN AGE. This is partly because it is not clear what we would fight them over, and partly because they may have an alarmingly high TECHLEVEL, making war with them a dangerously one-sided proposition. Dangerous at least for us. See COSMIC BACKGROUND HISTORY.
2) Aliens with Forehead Ridges. Much more common - especially in HOLLYWOOD SCIFI - than Really Aliens, these are species that look almost exactly like Earth Humans, except for some distinguishing visible feature such as, well, forehead ridges, or odd-shaped ears, or whatever. Sometimes they look rather less like humans, in which case (if friendly) they often resemble large teddy bears.
Not only do Aliens with Forehead Ridges mostly look like Earth Humans, they tend to act like Earth Humans as well, or at least one particular (real or speculative) Earth Human culture. A particular race of Aliens with Forehead Ridges may all have a culture like that of medieval Japan, or one based entirely on music, but you will very rarely find more than one culture per species. (The Vulcans and Romulans of Trek fame are a rare exception.)
Because of the similarity (or at least comprehensibility) of cultures, Earth Humans can have far more complex and intimate relations with Aliens with Forehead Ridges than with Really Aliens. We can not only communicate, Trade, and fight, but form joint business ventures, cheat each other at cards, and even fall in love.
Indeed, Aliens with Forehead Ridges raise a profound question in evolutionary biology. Convergent evolution might well produce a generally humanoid body plan, just as sharks and dolphins have a similar overall configuration. But Aliens with Forehead Ridges have much more than a general similarity to Earth Humans. They have the same secondary sex traits - as species-specific as you can get. Only their males have much facial hair, and their females often have bodacious figures. Often, indeed, they are INTERBREEDABLE species. This leads to some speculation that they may be of Earth Human descent. (Or else Earth Humans are descended from them, though this raises troublesome questions about chimpanzees.)
Perhaps because of these awkward issues, Aliens with Forehead Ridges have become much less common in written SF (save for media tie-ins) than they were some decades ago. In written SF, the KNOWN GALAXY seems increasingly to be inhabited only by Earth Humans. However, Aliens with Forehead Ridges continue to thrive in Hollywood Scifi. This is for an obvious reason: the audience wants aliens of some sort, and Aliens with Forehead Ridges are the only kind that can be played by members of the Screen Actors' Guild.
Apes or Angels
Sir Arthur C. Clarke made a famous observation about space explorers discovering aliens. If one considers the millions of years of pre-history, and the rapid technological advancement occurring now, if you apply that to a hypothetical alien race, one can figure the probabilities of how advanced the explorers will find them. The conclusion is "we will find apes or angels, but not men."
Why? Consider the history of Planet Earth. Let the height of the Empire State building represent the 5 billion year life of Terra. The height of a one-foot ruler perched on top would represent the million years of Man's existence. The thickness of a dime will represent the ten thousand years of Man's civilization. And the thickness of a postage stamp will represent the 300 years of Man's technological civilization. An unknown portion above represents "pre-Singularity Man", the period up to the point where mankind hits the Singularity/evolves into a higher form/turns into angels. Say another dime. Above that would be another Empire State building, representing the latter 5 billion years of Terra's lifespan.
If you picked a millimeter of this tower at random, what would you most likely hit? One of the Empire State buildings, of course. So, assuming only one civilization develops on a planet, chances are the first-in-scout starship Daniel Boone will discover mostly planets that are currently empty of alien civilizations (but they might have an almost 50% chance to discover valuable Forerunner artifacts or other paleotechnology).
As a matter of terminology, a long-extinct star faring alien civilization are commonly called "Forerunners", "Precursors", "Ancients", "Elder race", "Progenitors", or "Predecessors". Their thousand year old ruins are sobering, but their high-tech artifacts are generally far in advance of current tech levels and are of course both incredibly valuable yet incredibly dangerous. Archaeologists who stumble over such remains have a tendency to be killed by pirates, and their artifacts stolen.
If you only use the section with an alien civilization, you have a ruler and two dimes worth of apes and angels, and a postage stamp worth of near Human civilization. Ergo: apes or angels, but not men.
As a side note, one can use the time between apes and angels for the "average lifespan of a technological civilization". Insert this into the Drake equation along with a few other guesses and you can calculate the average distance between alien civilization homeworlds. (and of course the distance between Terra and the closest aliens).
Mark Alan Barner of Anaheim explains it this way:
Apes or Angels
Consider the high improbability that any two Earth-like planets will form and evolve to the exact and ideal conditions that develop and support carbon-based life.
Consider also the number of mass extinctions that have occurred in Earth's past. It is unlikely that the same number of these would occur on another Earth- like world at exactly the same time and with the exact same frequency.
Finally, consider the cultural developments in Earth's history, and apply a few "What Ifs." What if Democracy had never developed beyond the conceptual stage? What if Rome had never fallen? What if Columbus had never received any financial backing from the Spaniards? What if the Nazis had developed the atomic bomb first?
Would any of one of these events have delayed or advanced human development by as much as 0.001%? One value given for the age of the Earth is 4.567 billion years. A +/- 0.001% change would set human evolution back by 4.567 million years (Apes), or advance it by 4.567 million years (Angels).
Thus, by "Apes & Angels" one could say that any two worlds that formed at exactly the same time, and that have had billions of years to go from dust to sentient life, could differ by as much as 9.134 million years in evolution!
A divergence of only 0.000001% would still separate the two extremes by 9.134 thousand years. With this value, one alien world could have a bronze-age culture (year = 2560 BCE), while another could be far ahead of our own, both culturally and technologically (year = 6574 CE). Maybe not "Apes & Angels" but perhaps "Spearchuckers & Supermen"?
The planet Earth will have a life-span of roughly ten billion years. Mankind (Homo sapiens) appeared on Earth approximately 100,000 years ago. The bronze age began about 5300 years ago. The Industrial Revolution began about 250 years ago.
When will we humans evolve into angels? Vernor Vinge thinks the Singularity will happen no later than the year 2030. But I'll be generous and use 500 years from now, using John Barnes' rule of thumb. How long will the angels last? No idea. For lack of anything else, let's say 100,000 years from now, placing us current humans midway between apes and angels.
Now, assuming that the Daniel Boone only visits planets that be hosts to alien species, and assuming that each planet will only produce one alien species (which is a very questionable assumption), this means that the chance of discovering a living alien species is about 200,000/10,000,000,000 = 0.00002 = one chance in 50,000.
The poor Daniel Boone will on average have to visit fifty thousand planets in order to find one alien species. (Of course the Daniel Boone will probably be targeting planets about the same age as Earth and using other strategies to drastically reduce the number it will have to visit.)
Now, say that somehow the Daniel Boone manages to visit enough planets to discover 267 alien species. What level with they be at? Doing the math, 133 in 267 will be angels, 126 in 267 will be cave men, 7 in 267 will be on par with ancient Egypt, and only one in 267 will be a technological species. Keeping in mind that in this case, "technological" means it has technology ranging from steam power to something out of Star Wars (the 1760's to the 2500's).
The Daniel Boone will encounter 126 planets full of cave-man level aliens that they can play "Chariots of the Gods" with, and will have to avoid 133 planets with god-like species eager to put our intrepid explorers into giant petri dishes for their experiments with primitive life forms.
If these figures do not suit you, this is your opportunity to play with the various values until more reasonable numbers appear. But you will be forced to live with the implications of any values you change.
In those science fiction novels that care about technical details, there are some solutions mentioned. They all rely upon some method to start all the alien species in a stellar region simultaneously. This means that they will all develop at roughly the same rate, and encounter each other at roughly the same technological level. Solutions include postulating some alien race at the dawn of galactic history seeding planets, or disasters like gamma-ray bursters destroying all life in a galactic zone, forcing the planets to start re-evolving life starting at the same point in time.
I say "homeworlds" because they might have colonized nearby stars to form an empire. In this case the homeworld will probably be in the center of the empire's sphere of influence. Therefore the closest aliens will be the average distance between minus the radius of their empire. Go to The Tough Guide to the Known Galaxy and read the entry "HOMEWORLD".
If you already have an idea of how close you want civilizations to be spaced, you work the Drake equation backwards. Keep altering the values until you get the spacing you want. But now you have to live with the consequences of those various values, and their implications.
Ain't Gonna Look Like Mr. Spock
But even if you handwave that away and declare that there are lots of different species of aliens, there is plenty of room for imagination. Especially in the alien's anatomy. Just here on Terra, we can find jellyfish, tarantulas, viruses, and giraffes. Face it, if these fellow Earth-creatures don't resemble us, a totally alien race from another planet ain't gonna look like Mr. Spock. Personally if I open an SF novel only to discover yet another cat-like alien I may need a nausea bag.
There might be creeping jellies, giant crystals, intelligent plants, mobile fungoids, energy creatures, fusion plasma beings dancing in solar coronas, liquid or gaseous life, swarming hive intelligences, superintelligent shades of the colour blue, and natural "electronic" life forms in pools of liquid helium. They might not be made of meat. They might not even be composed of matter as we know it, like the Cheela from Dr. Robert Forward's Dragon's Egg who are made of neutronium and white dwarf star matter.
A "hive" intelligence would resemble an intelligent ant-hill, where each ant would be but a cell in the hill's "body". Individual ants may die, but the hill goes on. Examples include the "Boaty Bits" from FARTHEST STAR by Jack Williamson and Frederik Pohl, the "Godtalkers" from THE DRAGON NEVER SLEEPS by Glen Cook, the "Tinker Composite" from THE MIND POOL by Charles Sheffield, the "Mantis" from GREAT SKY RIVER by Gregory Benford, and the Martians from LAST AND FIRST MEN by Olaf Stapedon. If the alien is composed of a hive of several species, it is some times called an "anthology intelligence." Go to The Tough Guide to the Known Galaxy and read the entry "HIVE ENTITY".
The psychology of an alien species is anybody's guess. It could be so alien as to be forever beyond our understanding. It could be quite human. Or somewhere in-between. There is a sophisticated alien psychology generation system in the role-playing game GURPS: Uplift.
HIVE ENTITY. A type of REALLY ALIEN intelligent species - one of the most Really Alien of all - organized along lines rather like the social insects. In a Hive Entity, individuals members of the community count for nothing, and indeed most of them have no individual intelligence to speak of. They are specialized for various functions (particularly warriors), and exist entirely to serve the Hive Entity as a whole.
A Hive Entity's intelligence may reside in specialized "brain" individuals, which have only vestigial legs and even digestive systems, and are themselves entirely dependent on various kinds of "slave" individuals. Or the intelligence may somehow be spread out collectively though the whole Hive Entity, each individually-mindless inhabitant in effect contributing a few neurons to the whole. (Or some combination of these.) Some Hive Entities may not really be intelligent at all, but have evolved the ability to blow up other people's spacecraft the same way that some ants have evolved the ability to keep aphids as cattle.
When encountered in the KNOWN GALAXY, Hive Entities are almost invariably hostile. They apparently have nothing to offer in trade, much less arts or ideas, and you can't even negotiate a peace treaty with them, because there isn't really anyone to negotiate with. In WARFARE they are at once mindlessly ruthless - attacking in endless waves like giant army ants, which they also tend to look like - and malevolently intelligent. Putting no value on their own automaton lives, they obviously have no concept of valuing anyone else's.
In fact, Hive Entities are basically the ultimate totalitarians. It is no surprise that they appeared in written SF, so far as I know, around the mid 20th century CE, the same time that giant ants showed up in HOLLYWOOD SCIFI. Hive Entities were, and are, Nazis, Stalinists, and ChiComs, magnified to the Nth degree and let loose to give better races a harsh lesson in the precious value of individualism.
Which is really too bad. Taken in themselves, Hive Entities are a fascinating concept, precisely because they really are Really Alien. Yet if in fact they are intelligent, they must have ideas of some sort, however hard for them to express in a way we can understand. If the intelligence is spread through the hive community, the time scale of its thinking might be drastically slower than our own, maybe taking weeks to form the equivalent of a sentence. This indeed could make them tricky to deal with at first, since on our time scale they would necessarily act on reflex.
But if we EARTH HUMANS, and similar species, really want to demonstrate individual intelligence, we might actually try figuring the Hive Entities out, and see if we and they might have something to contribute to each other, instead of fighting pretty mindless wars with them. Don't hold your breath, though. It hasn't happened in fifty years, so far as I know.
But maybe the Hive Entities' mental time scale is longer than that.
Nowhere in space will we rest our eyes upon the familiar shapes of trees and plants, or any of the animals that share our world. Whatsoever life we meet will be as strange and alien as the nightmare creatures of the ocean abyss, or of the insect empire whose horrors are normally hidden from us by their microscopic scale.
"As I remember," he said, collecting his thoughts rapidly, "the biologists asked themselves the question, 'If we had no preconceived ideas, and were starting with a blank sheet of paper-how would we design an intelligent organism?"'
"I'm not much of an artist," Floyd apologized, after he had managed to borrow paper and pencil, "but the general conclusion was something like this."
He sketched quickly, and when he had finished Mr. Kelly said, "Ugh!"
"Well," chuckled Floyd, "beauty lies in the eye of the beholder. And talking of eyes, there would be four of them, to provide all-round vision. They have to be at the highest part of the body, for good visibility-so."
He had drawn an egg-shaped torso surmounted by a small, conical head that was fused into it with no trace of a neck. Roughly sketched arms and legs were affixed at the usual places.
"Getting rid of the neck removes a fundamental weakness, we only need it because our eyes have a limited field of view, and we have to turn our heads to compensate."
"Why not a fifth eye on top, for upward vision?" asked Kaminski, in a tone of voice which showed what he, thought of the whole concept.
"Too vulnerable to falling objects. As it is, the four eyes would be recessed, and the head would probably be covered with a hard protective layer. For the brain would be somewhere in this general region-you want the shortest possible nerve connections to the eyes, because they are the most important sense organs."
"Can you be sure of that?"
"No-but it seems probable. Light is the fastest, longest-ranging carrier of information. Any sentient creature would surely take advantage of it. On our planet, eyes have evolved quite independently, over and over again, in completely separate species, and the end results have been almost identical."
"I agree," said Whitehead. "Look at the eye of an octopus-it's uncannily human. Yet we aren't even remote cousins."
"But where's the thing's nose and mouth?" asked Mrs. Kelly.
"Ah," said Floyd mischievously, "that was one of the most interesting conclusions of the study. It pointed out the utter absurdity of our present arrangements. Fancy combining gullet and windpipe in one tube and then running that through the narrow flexible column of the neck! It's a marvel we don't all choke to death every time we eat or drink, since food and air go down the same way."
Mrs. Kelly, who had been sipping at a highball, rather hastily put it down on the buffet table behind her.
"The oxygen and food intakes should be quite independent, and in the logical places. Here."
Floyd sketched in what appeared to be, from their position, two oversized nipples.
"The nostrils," he explained. "Where you want them- beside the lungs. There would be at least two, well apart for safety."
"And the mouth?"
"Obviously-at the front door of the stomach. Here."
The ellipse that Floyd sketched was too big to be a navel, though it was in the right place, and he quickly destroyed any lingering resemblance by insetting it with teeth.
"As a matter of fact," he added, "I doubt if a really advanced creature would have teeth. We're rapidly losing ours, and it's much too primitive to waste energy grinding and tearing tissues when we have machines that will do the job more efficiently."
At this point, the Vice-President unobtrusively abandoned the canape he had been nibbling with relish.
"No," continued Floyd remorselessly. "Their food intake would probably be entirely liquid, and their whole digestive apparatus far more efficient and compact than our primitive plumbing."
"I'm much too terrified to ask," said Vice-President Kelly, "how they would reproduce. But I'm relieved to see that you've given them two arms and legs, just like us."
"Well, from an engineering viewpoint it is quite hard to make a major improvement here. Too many limbs get in each other's way; tentacles aren't much good for precision work, though they might be a useful extra. Even five fingers seems about the optimum number; I suspect that hands will look very much the same throughout the universe even if nothing else does."
"And I suspect," said Kaminski, "that the people who designed our friend here failed to think far enough ahead. What's the purpose of food and oxygen? Why, merely combustion, to produce energy-at a miserable few percent efficiency. This is what our really advanced extraterrestrial will look like. May I?"
He took the pen and pad from Floyd, and rapidly shaded the egg-shaped body until the air and food intakes were no longer visible. Then, at waist level, he sketched in an electric power point-and ran a long cable to a socket a few feet away.
There was general laughter, in which Kaminski did not join, though his eyes twinkled.
"The cyborg-the electromechanical organism. And even he-it is only a stepping stone to the next stage-the purely electronic intelligence, with no flesh and-blood body at all. The robot, if you like-though I prefer to call it the autonomous computer."
...you know how there are creatures that dwell in the most inaccessible, inhospitable places above, on and under the Earth and in her oceans? I am talking about life-forms you can find in any handbook of zoology, as opposed to those fearsome beings of the Cthulhu Cycle which which we are now so familiar. Well, there are also creatures which exist in the most obscure and random corridors and corners of time, in lost and unthinkable abysses of space, and in certain other twilight places which are most easily explained by referring to them as junctions of forces neither temporal nor spacial, places which by all rights should only exist in the wildest imaginings of theoreticians and mathematicians...
...Suffice to say, then that there are extreme forms of life within and without this universe of ours. And I know it to be so for I have seen or learned of many such forms.
...intelligent energies in the heart of a giant alien sun who measure time in ratios of nuclear fission and space in unimaginable degrees of pressure! There are wraithlike biological gasses which issue at the dark of their moon from the fissures of a fungoid world in Hydra, to dance away their brief lives until, exhausted, they die at dawn, scattering the sentient seeds of mushroom minds which will sprout and take root, and whose crevice-deep roots will in turn emit at the dark of the moon euphoric, spore-bearing mists of genesis.
There is a dying purple sun on Andromeda's rim whose rays support life on all seven of its planets. On the fourth planet there are exactly seventeen forms of life, or so it would appear. On closer inspection, however, a zoologist could tell you that these forms are all different phases of only one life-form! Consider the batrachian and lepidopterous cycles of Earth life and this might not seem too astonishing, until I tell you that of these seventeen phases two are as apparently inanimate mineral deposits, six are aquatic, two others amphibious, three land-dwelling cannibals, three more are aerial and the last is to all intents and purposes a plant while all of its preliminary stages (excluding the mineral phases) were animal...
The starcraft gathered the fabric of time and space. Chayn passed stars and groupings of stars, dense clusters of young stars and swirling clouds of dust and gas giving birth to new light in their depths. Black holes tunneled through the space-time structure into elsewhere, glowing ominously as matter spiraled down to annihilation. Chayn could perceive it all, but he focused his attention on the mind fields.
Uncountable multitudes of worlds circles perhaps a third of the stars in his view. Most were lifeless, barren worlds of rock and snow, but even the tiny fraction that had given birth to life emanated a broad mind field that he could sense everywhere. There were worlds of microscopic life and paradises of forests and jungles teaming with dramas of life and death. There were worlds ancient and wise in the ways of evolution, but what Chayn watched for were the sparks of intense awareness, life on levels near his own. Intelligence too far in advance of him were incomprehensible, aware of his passage, but apathetic. Most life forms on his own level were alien, different in inexplicable ways. He felt he could adapt to some of those strange and beautiful worlds if necessary, but he staved his hunger and waited for the worlds of man.
The Watcher told him that man had lived for eons, evolving to the greatness of the stargods, but that man in this galaxy had recently arrived in fleets of starships after sleeps of many millennia. The worlds of man were new here while Earth recycled its continents and evolved new species of life...
...Danger lay immediately ahead, a gulf of darkness between two arms of the galaxy. Chayn approached the starless void with caution. In that incredible abyss four hundred light years across, he could sense another kind of life -- the star travelers. He could sense such small concentrations of explorers only where they stood out like specks of brightness, even the blank minds of those who slept in the frozen oblivion of suspended animation...
One of the star travelers in view piloted a starcraft similar to his own. Two others were primitive vehicles of metal driven by fusion or antimatter-propulsion units to velocities below that of the speed of light ... At first Chayn thought the pilot of the starcraft like his own would seek communication with him, but the entity was highly evolved and looked upon him as a curiosity. Chayn knew himself to be a primitive, more typical of the life forms frozen in their crude ships of metal...
...Chayn's fear intensified as he neared the abyss. Mindspiders lurked in the darkness, many species of them littering the void with invisible webs. Some dangled thin and scraggly. Others spread magnificently, a light year in diameter. Even in that moment, he felt the shock, the utterly brilliant flare of terror of alien minds encountering the web in the far distance. Particles rose to lethal intensities of radiation. Bodies died and the ship heated to incandescence. The mindspiders fed upon disembodied consciousness. Few of the primitives could perceive such danger lurking in the abyss...
...Ahead, he sensed an old, torn web. Even the mindspiders had their predators in their own realm. This one was gone, the web deteriorating.
Hammond's head spun with their tales of spaceman's life, tales of the vast glooms of cosmic clouds that ships rarely dared enter, of wrecks and castaways in the unexplored fringes of the galaxy, of strange races like the thinking rocks of Rigel and the fish-cities of Arcturus' watery worlds and the unearthly tree-wizards of dark Algol.
Aliens will not resemble anything we've seen. Considering that octopi, sea cucumbers, and oak trees are all very closely related to us, an alien visitor would look less like us than does a squid. Some fossils in the ancient Burgess shale are so alien that we can't determine which end of the creature is up, and yet these monsters evolved right here on Earth from the same origins as we did.
...the vast majority of sentients (alien races) cannot directly communicate with each other.
Some species operate on different time lines, or are out of phase with the four dimensions we can perceive, are too small or too large, or perhaps, if they had to acknowledge us, they would have to kill us.
So even when an atomic matrix life form that feeds off the microwave hum left over from the Big Bang and excretes time lives in the same solar system with your typical silicon-based life form that eats rocks and excretes hydrogen, communication between them may be close to impossible.
Luckily it's not really a big deal, because they usually don't have anything to talk about. Or so it appears, right up until said atomic matrix life form begins a simple operation to make the local sun go nova in order to harvest neutrinos, and to their surprise, are vigorously opposed by those gritty little creatures clinging to their large orbiting rocks, who have had to start throwing anti-matter around to get their attention, and things usually deteriorate from there.
Many point to the ecosystems at the Galapagos black smokers as proof that life is possible in underground oceans on, say, Europa. However, if this is true, the implication is that such life will be far more common than terrestrial life. After all, there are several such moons in our solar system, and only one Terra (Europa, Enceladus, Ganymede and Titan). If there are four such moons, then throughout the universe iceball life will outnumber liquid water life four to one, on average. Such life turns up in The Killing Star by Charles Pelligrino and George Zebrowski.
A good example of a hive intelligence was in Olaf Stapedon's classic Star Maker. The "cells" composing an individual were free-flying birds linked telepathically. Birds might be born or die, but the flock-individual lived on. A more modest version were the "Tines" in Vernor Vinge's A Fire Upon The Deep. One might even consider an anthill to be a hive organism, an individual who's cells are ants.
An example of electronic life is the superconducting mentality in Sir Arthur C. Clarke's "Crusade".
The late Carl Sagan popularized the notion that floating organisms could exist in the temperate regions of Jupiter's atmosphere. He postulated an entire ecosystem, with aerial plankton grazed on by sky whales, who were preyed on in turn by flying sharks. Sir Arthur C. Clarke expanded upon this theme in "A Meeting With Medusa" and in 2010. These stories featured creatures that were sort of a cross between a titanic jellyfish and a zeppelin. The medusae were herbivores, but armed against the marauding sharks. They had high-voltage lighting projectors and serrated arms like kilometer long chainsaws. There are also sky whales in Dr. Robert Forward's Saturn Rukh.
One of the odder aliens is the Qax from Stephen Baxter's Timelike Infinity. Their "bodies" are organized clusters of millions of tiny whirlpools in still ponds. Another odd one was the Monolith Monsters. They were not invading aliens so much as an extraterrestrial chemical reaction. Instant monster: just add water. And don't forget the inflatable aliens from John Brunner's The Crucible of Time. Or the bizarre one from Damon Knight's Stranger Station.
In a science essay "Not As We Know It" (VIEW FROM A HEIGHT, 1963), Isaac Asimov notes that life on Terra is based on proteins dissolved in water. He points out some other possibilities:
|Fluorosilicones in Fluorosilicones||( ?? to ?? )||Silanes (chains of silicon atoms) are too unstable. Silicones (chains alternating silicon and oxygen atoms) are more suitable for making "silicon life" protein analogues.|
|Fluorocarbons in Molten Sulfur||(113 to 445 degrees C at 1 atm)||Earth proteins are too unstable at liquid sulfur temperatures. They can be stabilized by substituting fluorine atoms for hydrogen atoms, resulting in complex fluorocarbons.|
|Proteins in Water||(0 to 100 degrees C at 1 atm)||Because water is hydrogenated oxygen, the proteins will have to have more oxygen than nitrogen in their make up.|
|Proteins in Ammonia||(-77.7 to -33.4 degrees C at 1 atm)||Because ammonia is hydrogenated nitrogen, the proteins will have more nitrogen than oxygen in their make up. Earth proteins are too stable at liquid ammonia temperatures, ammonia life proteins will have to be more unstable than their Earth analogues.|
|Lipids in Methane||(-183.6 to -161.6 degrees C at 1 atm)||Polar liquids will not dissolve non-polar substances and vice versa (oil and water don't mix). Proteins are polar, so they won't dissolve in liquid methane. Complex protein-like polylipids will have to be used instead.|
|Lipids in Hydrogen||(-253 to -240 degrees C at 1 atm)||Liquid hydrogen is also non-polar, so polylipids will be needed.|
In classic science fiction, the buzz-word was "Silicon-based Life". Life on Terra is based on Carbon, since carbon can join with not one, not two, not even three, but a whopping four other atoms. This allows the construction of complex molecules like proteins and DNA, a requirement for living creatures. The only other element that can do this is Silicon, so the SF writers seized it. They are also fond of harping on the fact that while most carbon-based animals on Terra exhale gaseous carbon dioxide, a poor silicon-based critter would breath out silicon dioxide, i.e.,sand. In "A Martian Odyssey" by Stanley Weinbaum is a silicon life creature that "exhales" bricks of silicon dioxide, which it uses to build a pyramid around itself.
Some extraterrestrial creatures inhabit the depths of space itself. In Sir Arthur C. Clarke's Childhood's End was a creature that lived in deep space among asteroid belts. It resembled a huge eye, about twenty feet in diameter. Its survival depended upon the range and resolving power of its eye. In James Blish's The Star Dwellers, the "angels" are a species of energy creature that inhabit nebulae, and love to curl up in the cozy warmth of a starship's Nernst-effect fusion reactor. They are long-lived, the eldest were born shortly after the birth of the universe about 13 billion years ago. The Starfish from Glen Cook's Starfishers are vast creatures composed of fusion fires and magnetic fields. The human Starfishers protect the Starfish from the "sharks", and in exchange the Starfish give "ambergris nodes" which are the sine qua non of tachyon communication equipment. Magnetic nebula life appears in William Tedford's Nemydia Deep and "magnetovores" (i.e., organisms that consume magnetism) living in the solar corona are in David Brin's Sundiver. Large creatures include the living O'Neil colonies in John Varley's Gaean trilogy and the photovores around the galactic core in Gregory Benford's Sailing Bright Eternity (also described in Benford's article in the August 1995 issue of Fantasy & Science Fiction magazine, A Scientist's Notebook: Life at Galactic Center). Slightly larger is the living planet from Stanislaw Lem's Solaris. Biggest of all is the intelligent nebula from Fred Hoyle's The Black Cloud.
Body Type Classification
In his Lensman series, E.E. "Doc" Smith invents an alien body type classification system, though he gives precious few details. In the system, human beings are classified as AAAAAAAAAAAA to twelve places, and aliens have other letter codes depending upon how they vary from humans. The fifth place is for number and type of arms, the sixth is for number and type of legs, and seventh place is skin.
...The thing's bodily structure was RTSL, to four places. No gross digestive tract - atmosphere-nourished or an energy-converter, perhaps. Beyond four places was pretty dim, but Q P arms and legs - Dhilian, eh? - would fit, and so would an R-type hide.
...As she was wafted gently across the intervening space upon a pencil of force, Kathryn took her first good look at the precisionist himself-or herself. She - it - looked something like a Dhilian, she thought at first. There was a squat, powerful, elephantine body with its four stocky legs; the tremendous double shoulders and enormous arms; the domed, almost immobile head. But there the resemblance ended. There was only one head-the thinking head, and that one had no eyes and was not covered with bone. There was no feeding head-the thing could neither eat nor breathe. There was no trunk. And what a skin!
It was worse than a hide, really-worse even than a Martian's. The girl had never seen anything like it. It was incredibly thick, dry, pliable; filled minutely with cells of a liquid-gaseous something which she knew to be a more perfect insulator even than the fibres of the tegument itself.
"R-T-S-L-Q-P." She classified the creature readily enough to six places, then stopped and wrinkled her forehead. "Seventh place-that incredible skin-what? S? R? T? It would have to be R . . .
..."VWZY, to four places." Con concentrated. "Multi-legged. Not exactly carapaceous, but pretty nearly. Spiny, too, I believe. The world was cold, dismal, barren; but not frigid, but he-it-didn't seem exactly like an oxygen-breather - more like what a warm-blooded Palainian would perhaps look like, if you can imagine such a thing. VWZYTXSYZY to ten places.
...Classification, straight Z's to ten or twelve places, she - or it - seemed to be trying to specify. A frigid race of extreme type, adapted to an environment having a temperature of approximately one degree absolute.
...physically, his classification to four places is TUUV; quite a bit like the Nevians, you notice.To ten places it was TUUVWYXXWT.
James White adapted the system to his Sector General novels, with the the more reasonable specification that human beings were not the measure of all things, i.e., in the Sector General system humans are classified as DBDG, not AAAAAAAAAAAA.
Conway muted the speaker which carried the conversation between ship and receptionist into the gallery and said, "This is as good a time as any to explain our physiological classification system to you. Briefly, that is, because later there will be special lectures on this subject."
Clearing his throat, he began, "In the four-letter classification system the first letter indicates the level of physical evolution, the second denotes the type and distribution of limbs and sense organs and the other two the combination metabolism and pressure and gravity requirements, which in turn give an indication of the physical mass and form of protective tegument possessed by the being. I must mention here, in case any of you might feel inferior regarding your classification, that the level of physical evolution has no relation to the level of intelligence...
Species with the prefix A, B and C, he went onto explain, were water breathers. On most worlds life had originated in the sea and these beings had developed high intelligence without having to leave it. D through F were warm-blooded oxygen-breathers, into which group fell most of the intelligence races in the galaxy, and the G and K types were also oxygen breathing but insectile. The Ls and Ms were light-gravity, winged beings.
Chlorine-breathing life-forms were contained in the 0 and P groups, and after that came the more exotic, the more highly-evolved physically and the downright weird types. Radiation-eaters, frigid-blooded or crystalline beings, and entities capable of modifying their physical structure at will. Those possessing extra-sensory powers sufficiently well-developed to make walking or manipulatory appendages unnecessary were given the prefix V, regardless of size or shape.
Conway admitted to anomalies in the system, but these could be blamed on the lack of imagination by its originators. One of the species present in the observation gallery was a case in point - the AACP type with its vegetable metabolism. Normally the A prefix denoted a water breather, there being nothing lower in the system than the piscatorial life forms. But the AACPs were vegetables and plants had come before fish.
The Fermi Paradox
Sooner or later one has to confront the Fermi Paradox. A good overview of the problem is David Brin's Xenology: The Science of Asking Who's Out There and The 'Great Silence': the Controversy Concerning Extraterrestrial Intelligent Life. For more detail, try Where Is Everybody?: Fifty Solutions to the Fermi Paradox and the Problem of Extraterrestrial Life by Stephen Webb.
Dr. Geoffrey A. Landis has a possible solution based on Percolation Theory. A more depressing solution is in Toolmaker Koan by John McLoughlin. It argues that any intelligent species that invents tools starts a process of accelerated progress that inevitably leads to extinction by warfare over dwindling resources.
A more nasty solution is in the classic The Killing Star by Charles Pelligrino and George Zebrowski, Run To The Stars by Michael Rohan, and Antares Dawn by Michael McCollum (see below). It boils down to a variant on the Bezerker Hypothesis.
In A Fire Upon The Deep, Vernor Vinge postulates a solution based upon Terra being located in the less desirable geographic region of the galaxy.
The Killing Star
From The Killing Star by Charles Pellegrino and George Zebrowski (you really should read this book):
The great silence (i.e. absence of SETI signals from alien civilizations) is perhaps the strongest indicator of all that high relativistic velocities are attainable and that everybody out there knows it.
The sobering truth is that relativistic civilizations are a potential nightmare to anyone living within range of them. The problem is that objects traveling at an appreciable fraction of light speed are never where you see them when you see them (i.e., light-speed lag). Relativistic rockets, if their owners turn out to be less than benevolent, are both totally unstoppable and totally destructive. A starship weighing in at 1,500 tons (approximately the weight of a fully fueled space shuttle sitting on the launchpad) impacting an earthlike planet at "only" 30 percent of lightspeed will release 1.5 million megatons of energy -- an explosive force equivalent to 150 times today's global nuclear arsenal... (ed note: this means the freaking thing has about nine hundred mega-Ricks of damage!)
I'm not going to talk about ideas. I'm going to talk about reality. It will probably not be good for us ever to build and fire up an antimatter engine. According to Powell, given the proper detecting devices, a Valkyrie engine burn could be seen out to a radius of several light-years and may draw us into a game we'd rather not play, a game in which, if we appear to be even the vaguest threat to another civilization and if the resources are available to eliminate us, then it is logical to do so.
The game plan is, in its simplest terms, the relativistic inverse to the golden rule: "Do unto the other fellow as he would do unto you and do it first."...
When we put our heads together and tried to list everything we could say with certainty about other civilizations, without having actually met them, all that we knew boiled down to three simple laws of alien behavior:
- THEIR SURVIVAL WILL BE MORE IMPORTANT THAN OUR SURVIVAL.
If an alien species has to choose between them and us, they won't choose us. It is difficult to imagine a contrary case; species don't survive by being self-sacrificing.
- WIMPS DON'T BECOME TOP DOGS.
No species makes it to the top by being passive. The species in charge of any given planet will be highly intelligent, alert, aggressive, and ruthless when necessary.
- THEY WILL ASSUME THAT THE FIRST TWO LAWS APPLY TO US.
Your thinking still seems a bit narrow. Consider several broadening ideas:
- Sure, relativistic bombs are powerful because the antagonist has already invested huge energies in them that can be released quickly, and they're hard to hit. But they are costly investments and necessarily reduce other activities the species could explore. For example:
- Dispersal of the species into many small, hard-to-see targets, such as asteroids, buried civilizations, cometary nuclei, various space habitats. These are hard to wipe out.
- But wait -- while relativistic bombs are readily visible to us in foresight, they hardly represent the end point in foreseeable technology. What will humans of, say, two centuries hence think of as the "obvious" lethal effect? Five centuries? A hundred? Personally I'd pick some rampaging self-reproducing thingy (mechanical or organic), then sneak it into all the biospheres I wanted to destroy. My point here is that no particular physical effect -- with its pluses, minuses, and trade-offs -- is likely to dominate the thinking of the galaxy.
- So what might really aged civilizations do? Disperse, of course, and also not attack new arrivals in the galaxy, for fear that they might not get them all. Why? Because revenge is probably selected for in surviving species, and anybody truly looking out for long-term interests will not want to leave a youthful species with a grudge, sneaking around behind its back...
I agree with most parts of points 2, 3, and 4. As for point 1, it is cheaper than you think. You mention self-replicating machines in point 3, and while it is true that relativistic rockets require planetary power supplies, it is also true that we can power the whole Earth with a field of solar cells adding up to barely more than 200-by-200 kilometers, drawn out into a narrow band around the Moon's equator. Self-replicating robots could accomplish this task with only the cost of developing the first twenty or thirty machines. And once we're powering the Earth practically free of charge, why not let the robots keep building panels on the Lunar far side? Add a few self-replicating linear accelerator-building factories, and plug the accelerators into the panels, and you could produce enough anti-hydrogen to launch a starship every year. But why stop at the Moon? Have you looked at Mercury lately? ...
Dr. Wells has obviously bought into the view of a friendly galaxy. This view is based upon the argument that unless we humans conquer our self-destructive warlike tendencies, we will wipe out our species and no longer be a threat to extrasolar civilizations. All well and good up to this point.
But then these optimists make the jump: If we are wise enough to survive and not wipe ourselves out, we will be peaceful -- so peaceful that we will not wipe anybody else out, and as we are below on Earth, so other people will be above.
This is a non sequitur, because there is no guarantee that one follows the other, and for a very important reason: "They" are not part of our species.
Before we proceed any further, try the following thought experiment: watch the films Platoon and Aliens together and ask yourself if the plot lines don't quickly blur and become indistinguishable. You'll recall that in Vietnam, American troops were taught to regard the enemy as "Charlie" or "Gook," dehumanizing words that made "them" easier to kill. In like manner, the British, Spanish, and French conquests of the discovery period were made easier by declaring dark- or red- or yellow-skinned people as something less than human, as a godless, faceless "them," as literally another species.
Presumably there is some sort of inhibition against killing another member of our own species, because we have to work to overcome it...
But the rules do not apply to other species. Both humans and wolves lack inhibitions against killing chickens.
Humans kill other species all the time, even those with which we share the common bond of high intelligence. As you read this, hundreds of dolphins are being killed by tuna fishermen and drift netters. The killing goes on and on, and dolphins are not even a threat to us.
As near as we can tell, there is no inhibition against killing another species simply because it displays a high intelligence. So, as much as we love him, Carl Sagan's theory that if a species makes it to the top and does not blow itself apart, then it will be nice to other intelligent species is probably wrong. Once you admit interstellar species will not necessarily be nice to one another simply by virtue of having survived, then you open up this whole nightmare of relativistic civilizations exterminating one another.
It's an entirely new situation, emerging from the physical possibilities that will face any species that can overcome the natural interstellar quarantine of its solar system. The choices seem unforgiving, and the mind struggles to imagine circumstances under which an interstellar species might make contact without triggering the realization that it can't afford to be proven wrong in its fears.
Got that? We can't afford to wait to be proven wrong.
They won't come to get our resources or our knowledge or our women or even because they're just mean and want power over us. They'll come to destroy us to insure their survival, even if we're no apparent threat, because species death is just too much to risk, however remote the risk...
The most humbling feature of the relativistic bomb is that even if you happen to see it coming, its exact motion and position can never be determined; and given a technology even a hundred orders of magnitude above our own, you cannot hope to intercept one of these weapons. It often happens, in these discussions, that an expression from the old west arises: "God made some men bigger and stronger than others, but Mr. Colt made all men equal." Variations on Mr. Colt's weapon are still popular today, even in a society that possesses hydrogen bombs. Similarly, no matter how advanced civilizations grow, the relativistic bomb is not likely to go away...
We ask that you try just one more thought experiment. Imagine yourself taking a stroll through Manhattan, somewhere north of 68th street, deep inside Central Park, late at night. It would be nice to meet someone friendly, but you know that the park is dangerous at night. That's when the monsters come out. There's always a strong undercurrent of drug dealings, muggings, and occasional homicides.
It is not easy to distinguish the good guys from the bad guys. They dress alike, and the weapons are concealed. The only difference is intent, and you can't read minds.
Stay in the dark long enough and you may hear an occasional distance shriek or blunder across a body.
How do you survive the night? The last thing you want to do is shout, "I'm here!" The next to last thing you want to do is reply to someone who shouts, "I'm a friend!"
What you would like to do is find a policeman, or get out of the park. But you don't want to make noise or move towards a light where you might be spotted, and it is difficult to find either a policeman or your way out without making yourself known. Your safest option is to hunker down and wait for daylight, then safely walk out.
There are, of course, a few obvious differences between Central Park and the universe.
There is no policeman.
There is no way out.
And the night never ends.
Bill Seney points out a slight flaw in the above argument:
Attacking with relativistic rockets may be a good idea if there are only two technological species, but if there are two then it seems to me that it is likely there will be more. Using a relativistic rocket to destroy a planet will reveal your position AND indicate that you are hostile to any possible third race that is out there.
To extend the Central Park analogy, the muzzle flash when you fire off your gun reveals your position and identifies that you are hostile to anyone else out there.
Run To The Stars
From Run To The Stars by Michael Scott Rohan (1982). The heroes have discovered the Dreadful Secret that the BC world government is hiding: explorers have discovered the first known alien species, and BC is sending a huge missile to kill all the aliens.
"Alien," muttered Ryly, and coughed rackingly, unpleasant in the confined space. "The Colony - people, that was different, but - Bellamy, hey, hold on. Think a minute. So what you say's true - couldn't the BC still be right? I mean, these're aliens, man! Better we'd never contacted them, but now they've found us - hell, we can't trust them! We can't be sure! It's the human race at stake."
"Ye're sayin' that genocide - worse than that, even - that ye like the idea?" demanded Kirsty.
"Hell, no, think I'm Stalin or somethin'? Like I said - better we'd laid low, shut up, kept to ourselves, safe, Earth and the Colony both. But these things, we can't afford to take a risk with them! Better the missile cleans the mistake off the slate, things quiet down an' we're safe again. I don't like it, I hate it - but then I'm not so wild about some of the things you feel you were justified in doin' either..."
..."Ryly, you're no fool, but you're bloody well talking like one. That missile can be tracked, man! With the mass it'll have by the time it connects it'll leave a wake of gravitational disturbance - on interstellar radiation, for a start - pointing right back this way. That's why it's a one-shot weapon - no second chances! Safe? What's safe? As if we could somehow hide away from the rest of the universe. Not as long as we use any kind of broadcast communication, we can't Think of it! Just round here, in our own little neighborhood, three planets inhabited, two with intelligent life, two with roughly the same kind of life! There must be millions of inhabited worlds out there, whatever the experts spout. Some like us, some not. Sooner or later one of them's bound to track back our communications overspill and find us. What then? Under the bed?"
"If that missile hits the target," said Kristy venomously, "we'll have tae hide. Shrink back into our own wee system, never make a noise, never stir outside it. What if any other race ever found out what we'd done? Then we'd never be safe. They'd never trust us. Not for an instant. There's bound to be some of them who think like you, Ryly. We'd be giving them grand evidence, wouldn't we? They'd wipe us out like plague germs and feel good about it!"
My own imagination was striking sparks off Kirsty's and kindling an evil flame. "Unless..." I began, and actually had trouble shaping the thought. "Unless we got them first. At once, on first contact. A pre-emptive strike, before they could possibly have a chance to find out about us. Hellfire, isn't that a glorious future history for us! A race of paranoid killers, skulking in our own backwater system when we might have had the stars! Clamping down on exploration, communications, anything that might lead someone else to us and make us stain our hands again with the same old crime... Carrying that weight down the generations. What would that make of us?"
"Predators," breathed Kirsty, "Carrion-eaters - no, worse, ghouls, vampires, killing just tae carry on our own worthless shadow-lives."
Daniel Krouse brought to my attention some important new ideas on this matter:
Peter Watts wrote a book, "Blindsight" that covers a first contact scenario from a new and interesting angle ... I wanted to share with you an excerpt that I feel would serve as a good example on your Aliens page. It has a lot in it actually, as the whole of it tackles first contact from an evolutionary and game theory POV and raises some good points (such as the possibility that even our TV signals could be considered a hostile action). But my favorite bit and the part I include here is where he expands on Powell and Pellegrino's 3 assumptions with a 4th one: Technology implies belligerence.
Once there were three tribes. The Optimists, whose patron saints were Drake and Sagan, believed in a universe crawling with gentle intelligence — spiritual brethren vaster and more enlightened than we, a great galactic siblinghood into whose ranks we would someday ascend. Surely, said the Optimists, space travel implies enlightenment, for it requires the control of great destructive energies. Any race which can't rise above its own brutal instincts will wipe itself out long before it learns to bridge the interstellar gulf.
Across from the Optimists sat the Pessimists, who genuflected before graven images of Saint Fermi and a host of lesser lightweights. The Pessimists envisioned a lonely universe full of dead rocks and prokaryotic slime. The odds are just too low, they insisted. Too many rogues, too much radiation, too much eccentricity in too many orbits. It is a surpassing miracle that even one Earth exists; to hope for many is to abandon reason and embrace religious mania. After all, the universe is fourteen billion years old: if the galaxy were alive with intelligence, wouldn't it be here by now?
Equidistant to the other two tribes sat the Historians. They didn't have too many thoughts on the probable prevalence of intelligent, spacefaring extraterrestrials — but if there are any, they said, they're not just going to be smart. They're going to be mean.
It might seem almost too obvious a conclusion. What is Human history, if not an on going succession of greater technologies grinding lesser ones beneath their boots? But the subject wasn't merely Human history, or the unfair advantage that tools gave to any given side; the oppressed snatch up advanced weaponry as readily as the oppressor, given half a chance. No, the real issue was how those tools got there in the first place. The real issue was what tools are for.
To the Historians, tools existed for only one reason: to force the universe into unnatural shapes. They treated nature as an enemy, they were by definition a rebellion against the way things were. Technology is a stunted thing in benign environments, it never thrived in any culture gripped by belief in natural harmony. Why invent fusion reactors if your climate is comfortable, if your food is abundant? Why build fortresses if you have no enemies? Why force change upon a world which poses no threat?
Human civilization had a lot of branches, not so long ago. Even into the twenty-first century, a few isolated tribes had barely developed stone tools. Some settled down with agriculture. Others weren't content until they had ended nature itself, still others until they'd built cities in space. We all rested eventually, though. Each new technology trampled lesser ones, climbed to some complacent asymptote, and stopped — until my own mother packed herself away like a larva in honeycomb, softened by machinery, robbed of incentive by her own contentment. (ed note: Read the book for that bit to make sense)
But history never said that everyone had to stop where we did. It only suggested that those who had stopped no longer struggled for existence. There could be other, more hellish worlds where the best Human technology would crumble, where the environment was still the enemy, where the only survivors were those who fought back with sharper tools and stronger empires. The threats contained in those environments would not be simple ones. Harsh weather and natural disasters either kill you or they don't, and once conquered — or adapted to — they lose their relevance. No, the only environmental factors that continued to matter were those that fought back, that countered new strategies with newer ones, that forced their enemies to scale ever-greater heights just to stay alive.
Ultimately, the only enemy that mattered was an intelligent one.
And if the best toys do end up in the hands of those who've never forgotten that life itself is an act of war against intelligent opponents, what does that say about a race whose machines travel between the stars? The argument was straightforward enough. It might even have been enough to carry the Historians to victory — if such debates were ever settled on the basic of logic, and if a bored population hadn't already awarded the game to Fermi on points. But the Historian paradigm was just too ugly, too Darwinian, for most people, and besides, no one really cared any more. Not even the Cassidy Survey's late-breaking discoveries changed much. So what if some dirtball at Ursae Majoris Eridani had an oxygen atmosphere? It was forty-three light years away, and it wasn't talking; and if you wanted flying chandeliers and alien messiahs, you could build them to order in Heaven. (ed note: Again, read the book to understand Heaven) If you wanted testosterone and target practice you could choose an afterlife chock-full of nasty alien monsters with really bad aim. If the mere thought of an alien intelligence threatened your worldview, you could explore a virtual galaxy of empty real estate, ripe and waiting for any God-fearing earthly pilgrims who chanced by. It was all there, just the other side of a fifteen-minute splice job and a cervical socket. Why endure the cramped and smelly confines of real-life space travel to go visit pond scum on Europa?
And so, inevitably, a fourth Tribe arose, a Heavenly host that triumphed over all: the Tribe that Just Didn't Give A Sh*t. They didn't know what to do when the Fireflies showed up. So they sent us, and — in belated honor of the Historian mantra — they sent along a warrior, just in case. It was doubtful in the extreme that any child of Earth would be a match for a race with interstellar technology, should they prove unfriendly. Still, I could tell that Bates' presence was a comfort, to the Human members of the crew at least. If you have to go up unarmed against an angry T-rex with a four-digit IQ, it can't hurt to have a trained combat specialist at your side.
At the very least, she might be able to fashion a pointy stick from the branch of some convenient tree.
The Prisoner's Dilemma
The problem of whether to commit genocide upon an alien race or not is vaguely related to the famous "prisoner's dilemma".
The problem is that the Prisoner's Dilemma makes it all too likely that Paranoia beats reason. For those unfamiliar with it... here's the Space version.
Race A and B both have roughly comparable technology, but don't understand each other. Each race has 2 options: Launch missiles or Ignore each other.
If Both races open fire, both races are devastated but not destroyed.
If one race opens fire and the other ignores it, they're utterly exterminated.
If both races ignore each other, they live in peace and are fine.
The problem is, neither can really communicate with each other. And although the cooperative choice of ignoring each other is best, the risks of them firing first while you ignore them are too great. Thus, this scenario via game theory, will always result in missiles being exchanged.
|Race B Ignores||Race B Attacks|
|Race A Ignores||Both live constant fear||Race A exterminated
Race B lives free of fear
|Race A Attacks||Race A lives free of fear
Race B exterminated
|Both are devastated but not destroyed|
As the Wikipedia article shows, the dilemma comes when you assume that each race is trying to maximize it's survival.
Say you are Race A. If Race B ignores you, your best outcome is to attack. Then you do not have to live in fear, spend resources on building defenses, and so on. If race B attacks, your best outcome is still to attack, since the alternative is extermination.
And since Race B will make the same determination, both races will attack and be devastated but not destroyed.
An outside observer will note that if the two races are taken as a group, the best outcome of the group is for both races to cooperate. If either attacks, the outcome for the group will be worse. And if both attack, both races receive a worse outcome than if they had both ignored each other.
So if both races selfishly look out for themselves, both will attack and the result is devastation. If both races altruistically think about the group, both will ignore and both will live. And if one race is selfish while the other is altruistic, yet again it will be proven that nice guys finish last.
And it actually doesn't matter if they can communicate with each other or not, a given race cannot be sure if the other is being truthful. If the two races can communicate, they run into the "cooperation paradox". Each race must convince the other that they will take the altruistic option despite the fact that the race could do better for themselves by taking the selfish option.
|Cooperate||win some-win some||lose all-win all|
|Defect||win all-lose all||lose some-lose some|
|Cooperate||D, D||C, B|
|Defect||B, C||A, A|
Of course the prisoner's dilemma is a very artificial set-up, in real life the results would not be quite so clean-cut. To the right are two formulations of the prisoner's dilemma matrix.
In the Detailed matrix, A, B, C, and D are various outcomes, and the relative value of the outcomes are B > D > A > C. If those relative values are true, the prisoner's dilemma is present. In the first example, B = alive and free from fear, D = alive but in constant fear, A = alive but devastated and C = exterminated.
The prisoner's dilemma does have some vague similarities to the old cold war doctrine of Mutual Assured Destruction, though they are actually not very closely related. The prisoner's dilemma also does not work in those cases where what is bad for one player is equally bad for the other. An example is the game of "chicken" as seen in the 1955 film Rebel Without A Cause, where the drivers of both cars race to a deadly cliff and the first one to "chicken out" loses. But game theorists are working on a new approach called "Drama Theory" (warning: commercial website. No endorsement implied.)
"Gently, Sandy," First Lieutenant Cargill interjected. "Dr. Horvath, I take it you've never been involved in military intelligence? No, of course not. But you see, in intelligence work we have to go by capabilities, not by intentions. If a potential enemy can do something to you, you have to prepare for it, without regard to what you think he wants to do."
An alien civilization of similar technological advancement to Terra could contact them first. The standard motives from 1950's SF novels are, according to Solomon Golumb:
Sir Arthur C. Clarke notes that the nasty little short story by Damon Knight adds an eighth motive: Serve!
Trade is always a good motive. In H. B. Fyfe's little classic "In Value Deceived", a alien exploration starship is searching for a way to alleviate the famine on their homeworld. They make first contact with a human starship on some barren little world. On a tour of the human's ship, they are thunderstruck when they see the hydroponic installations. It's the key to salvation for their people!
But of course they feign disinterest. They ask for one as a souvenir. They don't notice the similar disinterest with which the humans ask for an alien heating unit. The one that produces all that pesky ash. Stuff like uranium and gold nuggets.
Both aliens and humans are surprised when both parties make quick good-byes after the trade and take off before the trade is regretted. They both think "gee, the other guys act like they cheated us."
As far as technological advancement goes, there is a crude measure in the Kardashev scale.
|I||A civilization that is able to harness all of the power available on a single planet.||~1016|
|II||A civilization that is able to harness all of the power available from a single star.||~1026|
|III||A civilization that is able to harness all of the power available from a single galaxy.||~1036|
Carl Sagan estimated that humanity is currently around Type 0.7. A Type II would probably have some kind of Dyson sphere to harvest all the star's energy. Type III would probably be as far advanced from us as we are from one-celled amoebae. Terran space explorers would be wise to avoid areas where Type III civilizations are operating. Otherwise they might suffer a similar fate to that of an ant trying to cross an interstate highway. And for similar reasons: not because the Type III hates lower races, but because the lower races are so far beneath their notice that Type IIIs cannot be bothered to keep track of them. Do you ever think about the ants you run over in your automobile? Even with a Type II the situation might be analogous to a puppy-dog chasing a monorail.
Things might get worse if a human explorer succeeded in attracting the attention of a Type III. They might react as you would, reaching for a cosmic spray-can of insecticide. Or use the explorer with the same lack of concern shown by cancer researchers to their laboratory rats. Maybe more like the lack of concern they show to the cells in their tissue cultures.In the Babylon 5 episode, "Mind War", surveyor Catherine Sakai's encounters a ship from a Type III civilization near the rim system Sigma 957. In a titanic display of cosmic force, the alien ship almost destroys hers like an automobile running over a beetle. She is rescued by Ambassador G'Kar. Later, she asks for answers.
Catherine: Ambassador! [He stops.] While I was out there, I saw something. What was it?
G'Kar [pointing at something on a flower]: What is this?
Catherine [examining the flower, as we see it in closeup]: An ant.
G'Kar [learning a new word]: Ant!
Catherine: So much gets shipped up from Earth on commercial transports, it's hard to keep them out.
G'Kar [suiting words to actions]: I have just picked it up on the tip of my glove. If I put it down again, and it asks another ant, "What was that?" how would it explain? There are things in the universe billions of years older than either of our races. They are vast, timeless. And if they are aware of us at all, it is as little more than ants, and we have as much chance of communicating with them as an ant has with us! We know, we've tried! And we've learned we can either stay out from under foot, or be stepped on.
Catherine: That's it? That's all you know?
G'Kar: Yes. They are a mystery. And I am both terrified and reassured to know that there are still wonders in the universe --- that we have not yet explained everything. Whatever they are, Ms. Sakai, they walk near Sigma 957. They must walk there alone!
G'Kar walks away. Catherine studies the ant for a moment and then turns away, shivering. The ant goes on about its own business.
Dr. Robert A. Freitas Jr. points out that it isn't just Type III civilizations that are dangerous, it is also Type III individuals. As civilizations technologically advance, members of that civilization have access to increasing amounts of energy. For example, your average medieval peasant could never hope to own something as destructive as an AK-47 automatic rifle or a few drums of fuel oil mixed with ammonium nitrate.
Imagine a family picnic. Some ants show up. Little Billy gets annoyed, tracks the ants back to their nest, dumps a cup of kerosene onto it and lights a match. The ant nest is annihilated. Billy gets called back to the picnic for ice cream.
Imagine a gathering of Type III entities. Some human starships show up. Little Beta-Lambda gets annoyed, tracks the starships back to Earth, and seeds it with five gigatons of neutronium antimatter. Earth is annihilated. Beta-Lambda gets called back to the gathering for euphoronic frequencies.
David Given opines:
I can picture the ships entering a system, making contact with a highly advanced civilization, some skirmishing, diplomacy, etc. leading to a treaty and peaceful relations --- and then the invading civilization discovers that it's actually been dealing with the god's non-sentient (on the god's scale) immune system.
In more detail: The Terran Empire might encounter an advance alien civilization, and engage in trade or battle with them. Only later they may discover that the "alien civilization" is the cosmic equivalent of a hyper-advanced entity's immune system. The entity would probably never become aware of the Terran Empire, much as you are never aware of the many tiny infections that are quietly taken care of by your immune system. The members of the "alien civilization" might be intelligent, but they are as unintelligent compared to the hyper-entity as your white corpuscles are compared to you.
The reassuring point is the fact that even though human being have a reasonably technologically advanced civilizations, amoebae still exist. It is possible that a hyper-advanced civilization could reach a state where we could not detect their existence, much as amoebae could not detect us. Paul Hughes proposes a corollary to Clarke's Third Law: Any sufficiently advanced intelligence is indistinguishable from nature. There are such civilizations in Sir Arthur C. Clarke's 2001 A Space Odyssey and Paul J. McAuley's Eternal Light. David Zindell's War in Heaven contains quite a few god-like entities who still occasionally notice humanity, however they are mostly concerned with efforts to circumvent the restrictions place upon them by the other god-like entities.
Now if a highly advanced alien civilization is extinct, the gold rush will be on as everybody realizes that incredibly valuable alien technology is literally just lying around for the taking. Xenoarcheologists will be busy excavating paleotechnology, then rushing to the patent office.
Drawbacks will include the unfortunate reality that everybody else has the same idea and they probably have guns, the fact that "everybody else" includes other alien civilizations (some of which you have not encountered before) who probably also have guns, the tendency for the astromilitary to seize and classify as top-secret any such paleotechnology in the name of national security, the hazard that the forerunner race you are looting may not be extinct but just mostly extinct, the risk that abandoned alien installations could be guarded by still working deadly automatic defenses, and the fact that monkeying around with such technology is insanely dangerous. Ben McGee notes that xenoarcheology will probably be much like H. P. Lovecraft's story "At the Mountains of Madness". Tekeli-li! Tekeli-li!
Call it the Star Gate.
For three million years, it had circled Saturn, waiting for a moment of destiny that might never come. In its making, a moon had been shattered, and the debris of its creation orbited still.
Now the long wait was ending. On yet another world, intelligence had been born and was escaping from its planetary cradle. An ancient experiment was about to reach its climax.
Those who had begun that experiment, so long ago, had not been men - or even remotely human. But they were flesh and blood, and when they looked out across the deeps of space, they bad felt awe, and wonder, and loneliness. As soon as they possessed the power, they set forth for the stars.
In their explorations, they encountered life in many forms, and watched the workings of evolution on a thousand worlds. They saw how often the first faint sparks of intelligence flickered and died in the cosmic night.
And because, in all the galaxy, they had found nothing more precious than Mind, they encouraged its dawning everywhere. They became farmers in the fields of stars; they sowed, and sometimes they reaped.
And sometimes, dispassionately, they had to weed.
The great dinosaurs had long since perished when the survey ship entered the Solar System after a voyage that had already lasted a thousand years. It swept past the frozen outer planets, paused briefly above the deserts of dying Mars, and presently looked down on Earth.
Spread out beneath them, the explorers saw a world swarming with life. For years they studied, collected, catalogued. When they had learned all that they could, they began to modify. They tinkered with the destiny of many species, on land and in the ocean. But which of their experiments would succeed they could not know for at least a million years.
They were patient, but they were not yet immortal. There was so much to do in this universe of a hundred billion suns, and other worlds were calling. So they set out once more into the abyss, knowing that they would never come this way again.
Nor was there any need. The servants they had left behind would do the rest.
On Earth, the glaciers came and went, while above them the changeless Moon still carried its secret. With a yet slower rhythm than the polar ice, the tides of civilization ebbed and flowed across the galaxy. Strange and beautiful and terrible empires rose and fell, and passed on their knowledge to their successors. Earth was not forgotten, but another visit would serve little purpose. It was one of a million silent worlds, few of which would ever speak.
And now, out among the stars, evolution was driving toward new goals. The first explorers of Earth had long since come to the limits of flesh and blood; as soon as their machines were better than their bodies, it was time to move. First their brains, and then their thoughts alone, they transferred into shining new homes of metal and of plastic.
In these, they roamed among the stars. They no longer built spaceships. They were spaceships.
But the age of the Machine-entities swiftly passed. In their ceaseless experimenting, they had learned to store knowledge in the structure of space itself, and to preserve their thoughts for eternity in frozen lattices of light. They could become creatures of radiation, free at last from the tyranny of matter.
Into pure energy, therefore, they presently transformed themselves; and on a thousand worlds, the empty shells they had discarded twitched for a while in a mindless dance of death, then crumbled into rust.
Now they were lords of the galaxy, and beyond the reach of time. They could rove at will among the stars, and sink like a subtle mist through the very interstices of space. But despite their godlike powers, they had not wholly forgotten their origin, in the warm slime of a vanished sea.
And they still watched over the experiments their ancestors had started, so long ago.
...a Starprobe had been destroyed after it had entered a solar system. Perhaps it had made contact with the mysterious Hunters of the Dawn, who had left their marks upon so many worlds, so close to the Beginning itself.
I been readin' 'bout how maybe they is planets peopled by folks with Ad-vanced brains On the other hand, maybe we got the most brains ... maybe our intellects is the universe's most Ad-vanced.
Either way, it's a mighty soberin' thought.
As if beckoned by those who had gone before, I half-floated between the titanic snowdrifts, quivering and afraid, into the sightless vortex of the unimaginable.
Screamingly sentient, dumbly delirious, only the gods that were can tell. A sickened, sensitive shadow writhing in hands that are not hands, and whirled blindly past ghastly midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were cities, charnel winds that brush the pallid stars and make them flicker low. Beyond the worlds vague ghosts of monstrous things; half-seen columns of unsanctifled temples that rest on nameless rocks beneath space and reach up to dizzy vacua above the spheres of light and darkness. And through this revolting graveyard of the universe the muffled, maddening beating of drums, and thin, monotonous whine of blasphemous flutes from inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond Time; the detestable pounding and piping whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and absurdly the gigantic, tenebrous ultimate gods the blind, voiceless, mindless gargoyles whose soul is Nyarlathotep.
They too might look across the 50,000 light-years to the core of the Galaxy, glimpse the titanic forces flickering there among the most ancient of the stars - and marvel at the mentalities that must control them.
Our Galaxy is now in the brief springtime of its life - a springtime made glorious by such brilliant blue-white stars as Vega and Sirius, and, on a more humble scale, our own Sun. Not until all these have flamed through their incandescent youth, in a few fleeting billions of years, will the real history of the universe begin.
It will be a history illuminated only by the reds and infareds of dully glowing stars that would be almost invisible to our eyes; yet the somber hues of that all- but-eternal universe may be full of color and beauty to whatever strange beings have adapted to it. They will know that before them lie, not the milions of years in which we measure the eras of geology, nor the billions of years which span the past lives of the stars, but years to be counted literally in trillions.
They will have time enough, in those endless aeons, to attempt all things, and to gather all knowledge. They will not be like gods, because no gods imagined by our minds have ever possessed the powers they will command. But for all that, they may envy us, basking in the bright afterglow of Creation; for we knew the universe when it was young.