On The Evolution of Alien Species

Aliens have come a long way. Not real aliens—I don’t even know if they exist. I’m referring to aliens in literature. Inspired by fine articles authored by Ian Simpson and Joelle Renstrom, I’ll describe how aliens evolved with science fiction.

Image from Pixabay.com

The Law of Alien Fiction

First, though, I’ll emphasize a non-intuitive law of alien literature: Alien stories aren’t about aliens. They’re about humans. Even stories populated only by non-human characters are about humans. A simple reason explains this—people write stories for other people. If we encounter aliens someday, we’ll write stories about them, and perhaps they’ll return the favor…if they write stories. Until then, it’s all about us.

Origins – Humanoids to Visit and Study

In primeval scifi, aliens resembled us. They served as stand-ins for primitive human societies encountered during exploratory voyages. They existed to be noticed and remarked upon, or to serve as metaphors serving the author’s purposes.

Examples include the sun and moon people of Lucian’s True History, the tall lunar Christians of Francis Godwin’s The Man in the Moone, and the titanic aliens of Voltaire’s Micromégas.

Post-Darwin Evolutionary Branching

Charles Darwin’s Theory of Evolution showed how animal species evolve from earlier forms and sometimes split into two or more species. This freed writers from the humanoid anatomy, so aliens branched out in all directions, exploding into the universe of fiction. They filled all niches. Their attitudes toward humans ranged from bad, through neutral, to good.

We saw warlike, conquest-driven aliens shaped like giant heads in H.G. Wells’ The War of the Worlds. A variety of species populated Mars in Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Barsoom series. God-like aliens appeared in Olaf Stapleton’s Star Maker. C.S. Lewis gave readers otter-like bipeds and insect-frogs in Out of the Silent Planet. E.E. “Doc” Smith’s The Skylark of Space featured non-material aliens. Arthur C. Clarke showed us Satan-like aliens whose purpose was to prepare humanity for its designated future role, in Childhood’s End. In Starship Troopers, Robert A. Heinlein scared us with huge bug-aliens. By contrast, peaceful and philosophical aliens occupied Mars until humans colonized the planet and displaced them in Ray Bradbury’s The Martian Chronicles.

3-D Aliens

Readers loved these aliens, but began asking questions. They wanted more depth. Authors began fleshing out the aliens, thinking through the implications. They gave the aliens backstory, culture, language, politics, art, philosophy, mores, and logical motivations.

In Dune and its sequels, author Frank Herbert supplied a life cycle for the giant sandworms, and integrated them into the values and mythos of the planet.

Larry Niven became the exemplar for fully-imagined aliens, from the puppeteers and Kzinti of Ringworld, to the Moties of The Mote in God’s Eye, to the elephantine Fithp of Footfall (the latter two co-written with Jerry Pournelle). These aliens possessed history, characteristic gestures, distinctive modes of thought, their own behavior patterns—the whole package.

Explanations for Non-Contact

As decades passed and the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence (SETI) failed to detect evidence of aliens, and as the difficulty of interstellar travel became more apparent, writers found it less credible to craft stories teeming with star-voyaging alien life.

Authors had to confront the Fermi Paradox problem of why humans haven’t heard from aliens, and what forms that communication might take. Carl Sagan’s Contact, Robert J. Sawyer’s Rollback, and Ted Chiang’s “Story of Your Life” examined these themes in different ways.

Your Alien Story

Like time, evolution marches on. I don’t know what’s next for aliens. Perhaps, in an upcoming story of yours, you’ll tell—

Poseidon’s Scribe

Evolution of Your Book

As you write it, your book will evolve. Think of this process as a scientist thinks of an organic species.

The scientific theory of evolution holds that genetic variations within individual members of a species produce an organism slightly different from its parent or parents. The differences allow it to fit into its environment better, or worse, or with no change, in comparison with its ancestors. Those organisms less able to fit do not survive. Those that fit better, do.

Further complicating the process, the environment changes too. Usually this occurs at a much slower rate than the generational, genetic changes within a species, but sometimes the environment alters in sudden and catastrophic ways.

How is this like the book you’re writing? Your book begins as an idea, amoeba-like, single-celled, floating in the nourishing sea of your mind. That sea not only feeds the new-born amoeba-book, it adds cells, adds complexity in a benevolent, parental way.

Soon that environment changes. Your fledgling book idea doesn’t swim alone in your mind-sea. Other book ideas compete for food there. Any given book idea jostles against others while you probe and examine each one, scrutinizing them all for weaknesses.

Your book then grows more complex and becomes a fish with internal structures. Physically, a few pages of notes. It’s survived the rough-and-tumble of competition with other book ideas to adopt this new form.

As you create early drafts, your book becomes an amphibian. A manuscript, though rough in form. Time for it to emerge into a new and harsher environment. You push your book up to the light, to crawl onto the beach of criticism where it will encounter a critique group or a beta reader.

A cruel life awaits your book as it creeps about in this unfamiliar world. Editor-predators lurk there, ready to detect weak spots and pounce. If genetic variations (revisions) prove favorable, your book adapts, becomes more reptilian, fits in with the environment by surviving encounters with predators.

Your book continues to evolve during a long period of revision. It becomes strong, lean, and complex, with few remaining weaknesses. A mighty and fearsome creature, it rules its world.

A meteor strikes.

You got the book published. The environment explodes into a chaotic new form. No longer a gigantic dinosaur, striding unchallenged, your book is a tiny mammal, a mouse scurrying about, competing for readers against innumerable other creatures.

These readers provide the sustenance your book needs—sales. But some readers become critics. A few of those critics treat your book well. Many other critics claw, slash, and gnaw at it.

Many books cannot adapt to this treatment and die out. Others manage to survive, despite the adverse criticism. Published in text form, your book may evolve in new ways. It can take the form of an audiobook. It can be adapted into a play, a movie, a TV show, a graphic novel, a comic book, a video game, etc.

Adapted and evolved to survive in various environments, your book stands erect, spreads throughout the world, and endures.

I wish you luck as you help your book along its evolutionary path. May it survive many epochs. I’m hoping the same success awaits books by—

Poseidon’s Scribe