Alien Thoughts

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“The alien is the creation of a need — man’s need to designate something that is genuinely outside himself, something that is truly non man, that has no initial relation to man except for the fact that it has no relation …. it is through learning to relate to the alien that man has learned to study himself.”

From the prefact to Aliens: The Anthropology of Science Fiction,
edited by George Slusser and Eric S. Rabkin

This morning a bird flew into the patio window and knocked itself out. I found it lying on its back breathing rapidly. I picked it up and held it in the palm of my hand. It just looked at me.

This got me to thinking about aliens in science fiction. Just like that little bird, the likelihood that an alien would have any true understanding of my intentions are pretty low. Or are they?

If we’re talking about a sentient alien, many would believe that communicating with it would be more along the lines of trying to communicate with another human who spoke another language.

But would that really be the case? If the way the alien’s brain functioned was significantly different from the way ours does, where would we find the common ground upon which to start an attempt to understand each other?

Its all well and good in science fiction that common ground is found — there wouldn’t be much of a story otherwise. “The only universal message in science fiction is as follows,” wrote Larry Niven in his essay “The Alien In Our Minds” from Aliens: The Anthropology of Science Fiction, “There are minds that think as well as you do, or better, but differently.”

I wonder though, is science fiction correct in this assumption? If there are a vast amount of sentient life forms in the universe, I’m sure there would have to be a species or three for which this is true. But wouldn’t it also be true that a sentient life form could think so differently that we could never truly understand one another?

As I looked into the eyes of that little bird, I realized how vastly different our thought processes must be. And yet, it sat there and let me stroke its head, put it in a box to rest, and when the time came to set it free a couple hours later, it waited patiently for me to open the door.