My First Alien

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Last night I had dinner with an optical engineer who was explaining the merits of a molecular tweezer. He was strumming on about lasers and spectronomy so I asked him a serious question about humanoid cloning. He mocked, “that’s a little too tinfoil hat” at the topic. The table laughed with the engineer and I found myself muted once again by the flypaper of “conspiracy.” Undeterred, and mostly autistic, I stopped the table of six men to explain just how crazy I was about cloning.

As a child I was told the military industrial complex was 50 yrs ahead of what’s currently available on the market. I remember a lab in England cloned Dolly the sheep twelve years ago. I know we splice and move genes in academia. I know in fifty years, we will clone some type of humanoid. I know we can even predict how that humanoid might function. What it might look like. We might give it thumbs and feet to be useful. You’d leave off finger nails, the sex organs, hair, or even a belly button. You could avoid the stomach and intestines altogether. You could recharge them through photosynthetic skin receptors like plants have. You’d want its brain to be low calorie and predictive. Simple. You could cut the outer mammalian brain lobes of reason and emotion. You’d keep the brain’s central reptilian core. The triune brain. After a few misprints, we would have a rechargeable biological robot that’s effective, docile and cost-effective. Basically a pet snake with elbows and kneecaps.

The table begged itself for a reaction. I looked to the engineer to prove me fantastical. Our table was paused for his answer. The mind control fell out of his face hole, “The cost. It would be unimaginable. The amount of time…Ridiculous.” The table seemed to exhale in the unison of agreement. Quickly the engineer changed the subject, “Did you know L.E.D. pens aren’t technically lasers?” Someone answered, “Really?” The bus of conversation drove away without me.

Modern America is in a multi-layered state of mind control. That evening I felt trapped inside an aquarium listening to a goldfish tell shark stories. I was surrounded by guppies who needed that goldfish to keep them busy. Every fish in the tank pretends this is the real ocean. I was staring through the glass, wondering why I can’t swim around it.

Original source: https://www.jtrue.com/blog/my-first-alien

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