The Coastal Post - May, 1997

An Internet Alien Conspiracy Plot

BY STEPHEN SIMAC

When the advertising blitz began, it was about as subtle as a sledgehammer. The aliens had obviously studied humans well, and they played our every button like a symphony of accordions. The little diagrams of male and female humans that had been sent out into space on the Voyager were pathetically feeble caricatures, compared to the knowledge of human nature demonstrated by the aliens' clever use of the hidden hooks of persuasion.

They'd done their market research, they'd honed their messages to their various target audiences, and the lines to buy their product stretched from horizon to horizon. Their product was simple: we're taking you with us, welcome aboard the love boat. The ultimate vacation, party forever on the mothership of legalized gambling, true love and hot sex, bounteous buffets, large-breasted alien women and tall, dark handsome men, waterfalls of alcohol, non-addictive cigarettes and harmless drugs to dull your brain.

A billion humans left in the first wave of lift-offs, never seen or heard from again. The alien spin control of the stunned reaction to the magnitude of the abduction was finessed by the aliens' evident concern for the environment of this blue-green planet.

They pointed out that we had reached carrying capacity for a sustainable lifestyle decades before, and removing a billion humans was their way of helping out. It was obvious they were concerned about the environment; they sponsored nature programs on PBS and announced they would take even more people.

The second billion humans were the ones who'd been upset they hadn't gotten onto the first ship, and many world leaders and opinion makers took a permanent vacation as well. There was evidence of coercion in some of the disappearances of noted protesters, but the wide open highways plus no lines at Disneyworld gained more media attention than the abduction of the Pope and the seizure/forfeiture of all mined and ingot gold on the planet.

The moon-sized motherships had been spotted behind comet Hale Bopp by vodka-swilling cultists who just did it, but from the expertise of the alien advertising campaigns in thousands of languages and various formats, it appeared the aliens had been monitoring human radio and television broadcasting since the first squawks of static.

They had a deeper and more penetrating understanding of the human psyche than Freud, sales psychologists, campaign managers, CIA mind-control agents or market researchers. They knew how to play human desires like a full section of violins in a Walter Murch-scored movie's emotional climax. Many people wondered if the aliens hadn't been originally involved in programming some of the platforms in human evolution. Why were humans so on fire with desire for gold? Why had humans been encouraged to breed so rapidly?

The third wave of recruitment went after the idealists and Puritans who'd hung back from the blatant pandering of the first cattle calls. They went after environmentalist, tree-hugger liberals, along with the religious fundamentalist conservatives, by direct mail marketing. It was double-billed as a culturally-sensitive eco-vacation for the earth, and a chance to share the Lord with the heathen idolaters. There wasn't as rapid a response, and recruitment of the love boat's third billion began to resemble the press ganging of the British Royal Navy. There weren't enough humans to effectively resist.

Most of the two billion or so left walking around dazed and confused were children, the elderly, and some anti-social types. The welfare system had been transformed along with Medicare plus Social Security, and evil socialism was vanquished. Communism was dead even in China, but so was capitalism and individual enterprise. In a way, mass merchandizing techniques had saved the planet, as wolves and grizzlies again roamed the alleys.

The Unabomber wandered out of his jail cell and calculated that in order to fit a billion humans in their cargo hold, the ships would have to fit them in like African slaves in the middle passage, naked and crammed belly to butt.

A former government psychic distant viewer tuned into the trio of mothership galleons sailing off towards a New World and saw that the propulsion of the alien ships depended on resonant peristaltic action.

Billions of blissful humans greased in their own bodily fluids, packed in like pigs in a pork factory, hooked up on teats, force-fed on double espresso-laced gruel like veal calves and pate de foie gras geese, swallowing, digesting, copulating in resonant harmony as the Nina, the Pinta and the Santa Maria squirted off through the vast stretches of this corner of the universe searching for gold, slaves and paradise. They'd be back when they needed more.