5 Reasons Aliens Might Invade Earth
It’s time to talk about everybody’s favorite top-heavy little green guys: aliens. Pretty much as long as we’ve been on Earth and had the necessary amount of brain folds to process the idea that there might be life on other planets, we’ve been borderline obsessed with their existence. So far, not much of it has proved fruitful outside of giving farmers a much more exciting way to explain cow disappearances. Nobody’s shot down any of our satellites or kicked over any of our rovers for rolling into their space yards, so we remain without any sort of real proof that other folks are floating around out there.
We’ve put some effort into at least throwing out a couple “sup”s into deep space, in case anyone is listening, but, as technologically advanced as we are, we’re still not equipped to do any detailed exploration beyond our own atmosphere. This leaves us with the fact that if aliens do indeed want to get in touch, the ball is likely in their court. But even if they could communicate with us, we have to answer another question — why?
Sure, maybe they could share our natural curiosity, but they could also be advanced enough to look at our planet and see nothing more than the intellectual equivalent of lichen under an intergalactic log. So let’s think about some of the reasons that might prompt non-Earthers to come calling — in both friendly and less-than-friendly circumstances.
One thing we’ve learned about advanced civilizations over time: We need a whole lot of shit to make everything work. Food, water, fossil fuels, metals, we spend a vast amount of our time picking valuable resources out of the planets like the M&M’s out of a massive bag of trail mix. Given that we’re clearly starting to see the bottom of the barrel poking through on some of these necessary materials, it’s fair to assume that if alien civilizations exist, they might be running low on whatever the extraterrestrial equivalent of petroleum is.
With that in mind, if they spot Earth out of the side window of their flying saucer, it might seem like an absolute windfall — not only is the planet chock-full of delicious resources, we’ve already built mines and equipment for harvesting most of them. In that way, we’re like a naive country boy counting his money right in front of a big city ATM. Of course, there’s always a possibility it could work out great: We know nothing about their biology or technology, so maybe we get lucky and they desperately need something that’s basically trash to us. Maybe they’ll show up and explain that their spaceships run on dog turds and they’re happy to trade us the useless shiny metal we call silver in exchange. But probably not.
Maybe there’s intelligent life out there that’s done an even worse job than we have at taking care of our home planet. They might come from a planet so barren that our wheezing, dying husk seems like a thriving cornucopia of top-notch real estate. Perhaps the sight of polar ice caps in any capacity will inspire whatever their population’s equivalent of the Ferris Bueller “bow bow” sound is, and the gray men will descend upon us like little tech bros on a large-scale San Francisco.
This is not likely a preferred outcome for us, as we’re a bit crowded as it is. Nor are we especially good at sharing. With just the people already here, a huge amount of violence and death can be directly attributed to someone looking for a bit more land to lounge about on. If aliens plop down on Earth and start measuring your living room dimensions, I’d start getting your affairs in order before you’re done and dusted by a space gun.
This is by far the nicest option, but also one that reeks with the hopeful tone of a 6-year-old who has never known pain. Maybe we’ll be lucky enough to run into a friendly alien population that wants nothing more than to check in, say hello and see what we’re up to down here. The friendly space equivalent of bringing a fruit basket to new neighbors. It would certainly be a, no pun intended, fruitful outcome, that could benefit us in all sorts of ways. Maybe while we’re giving them the grand tour they’ll notice someone dying of cancer and be like, “Oh shit, do you guys want the cure for that? We remember cancer, that fucking sucked.”
Seeking Not Peace
They could also be an unfriendly alien population that’s been watching what we’ve generally been doing down here and aren’t big fans. It feels like they should have stepped in once we figured out nukes, but maybe they’re playing the long game. This could be in concert with the need for space or resources, but could also be as simple as “let’s take care of the furry guys on the wet rock so we don’t have to worry about them anymore.”
In any case, it’s bad fucking news for us. By nature, if they’re scientifically advanced enough to get here, we’re probably not taking them out with an M4. As far as I can tell, none of the globe’s body-armor standards have anything to say about rayguns. Nice plate carrier, bro, unfortunately, it’s not going to help now that your entire upper body is melting. To be honest, it’s not even an option that deserves thorough preparation, because the best option is probably to immediately offer yourself to them as some sort of indentured servant and hope the chains they make you wear aren’t too tight.
Seeking Our Delicious Soda
Penicillin. The combustion engine. Delicious soda. Three of humankind’s greatest ever inventions. Yet, when looking at a theoretical alternate timeline of alien technology advancement, only one of the three seems likely for them not to have naturally stumbled upon. Through the pursuit of medicine and industry, versions of penicillin and the combustion engine are likely to have been figured out. But soda? Maybe their high intellect hurt them here, as they never accidentally stumbled into the realm of useless health tonics that eventually gifted us such delicacies as Coca-Cola or Dr. Pepper.
Perhaps then, picking up on their advanced satellites some tidbits of a human television broadcast, aliens will be transfixed by the appearance of a mysterious elixir: a McDonald’s Sprite, bubbling away furiously in citric glory. The more research they do, the more they uncover a delicious spiderweb of our various advancements in soda technology. Who is this Mr. Pibb, they’ll wonder? He must be a great man, to be honored with his own beverage. Finally, they will come knocking on our door, ship laden with valuable technology and minerals, begging us to experience a Pepsi Max.
And with a pop and a hiss, a timeless alliance will be born.