The Writing Excuses podcast occasionally references a writing crutch called “planet of hats.” I don’t know if they named it, or if the name came from somewhere else, but it is a concept with which any reader (or watcher) of science fiction should be familiar. It comes primarily from Star Trek and similar, episodic, planet-of-the-week programs, and their tendency to have entire planets based around a single concept. Looking at our own Earth and its immense variety, this is obviously unrealistic, and yet it remains a useful storytelling device because capturing the full complexity of an alien planet on a level comparable to our real world is impractical if not impossible, even in written form. At least we, as writers, don’t have to worry about a special effects budget that can only support new ways of gluing prosthetics to people’s faces.
Similarly, science fiction tends to reduce alien species and first contact scenarios to a handful of basic assumptions, and extrapolate those across all occurrences across the universe. One of the strongest and most interesting aspects of Permanence is how it does not fall into this simplifying assumption, and instead presents a whole spectrum of responses to encountering alien species for the first time. Some species seek to wipe out all other intelligent life, others are isolationist, others seek harmony and diplomacy, and even variations and differences within different factions of a single species are addressed. That is pleasing to read, and something I intend to explore in my own approaches…but not this time. Tastes of the Cosmos, I must admit, enters a bit of planet-of-hats territory.
Frankly, planet-of-hats is a useful tool for exploring an idea, especially in a short story format. I used something similar for Tastes of the Cosmos, essentially providing two sides of a first contact coin: one which is hostile, and one which is friendly. Which one you get depends on who you meet first, so when humanity reaches out into the cosmos, they don’t know which they will find.
In that sense, this is a story which has been told before. My twist on it, if there is a twist to be found, is to present it (mostly) from an alien perspective. They’re fairly human aliens, but I tried to make them a little more interesting by changing their dominant senses and giving them a few other features which affect their outlooks and interactions. Still, this is not the deepest or most original of stories, and the most challenging part about writing it was getting the timeline to work given speed of light limitations, which can really mess with a story’s internal momentum and consistency. Not every story must be something splendid and new, though, and such stories can still be worth reading. I hope you enjoy Tastes of the Cosmos.
Slzylzlczryst emitted red oud-labdanum-osmanthus and removed her tentacle from the interface. “Krislslyzzt, take a taste of this.”
Krislslyzzt undulated over and inserted her tentacle. Her expression copied Slzylzlczryst’s aroma. “It tastes modulated!” She tasted again. “Very faint, but definitely there. Where did we receive this from?”
Slzylzlczryst consulted the array telemetry. “Smells like it pinged elements theta-twelve through sixty-five by phi-ninety-eight through one-forty-three. Range estimate three hundred forty lightyears. Too far for a resolved trace vector.”
Guaiac wood-benzoin from Krislslyzzt. “Well, it doesn’t match Xoxxadaxzik signatures. It’s probably some weird pulsar group or something. Flag it for the analysts.”
“You’re probably right.” Slzylzlczryst logged the modulation while Krislslyzzt resumed her station.
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