2023-02-07

Last updated Aug 15, 2023

#BIO21i #biology #sciencefiction

• One of the most fascinating things about science fiction that showcases biological tropes is ==the diversity of non-Earth species==, many of which are intelligent humanoids that are able to communicate with humans.
• But not all life in sci-fi worlds is willing or have the capacity to communicate and cooperate. Out there are aliens so bizarre in morphology and psychology that normal means of communication are difficult at best and deadly at worst.

There are two primary questions to answer in exploring the biodiversity of sci-fi worlds:

1. Where did all this biodiversity come from?
2. What role does evolution play in this biodiversity?

To be able to understand these, we turn to the only real-life example that we know for now: Earth. Watch this video for a discussion on how evolution explains biodiversity.

• Cards/Speciation is an evolutionary process that gives rise to new species from pre-existing ones.
  • What this implies in science fiction is that all of the sci-fi aliens that we know had ancestors, unless the species itself is the progenitor of all life.
  • But speciation is a long process (on Earth, it normally takes at least a million years) and requires reproductive isolation or the inability of two formerly intermingling and reproducing populations to keep on mating.
  • Usually, that’s due to a geographical barrier that physically separates them, which is the mode of speciation called allopatric (allo = different, patric = land). In many of these shared universes, allopatric speciation may explain why so many humanoid species look alike; they probably shared ancestors and just evolved separately because they were separated by space!
• Also important in understanding speciation is the concept of the Cards/Niche, which ecologically speaking is ==the set of all possible environmental conditions that will allow a population to sustain itself.==
  • According to the Cards/Competitive Exclusion Principle, ==no two species can occupy the same niche at the same time indefinitely.== Two species can compete for the same resource for only so long; the outcompeted will have to diverge from the niche and thus potentially become a new species, or else go extinct.
  • A lot of sci-fi worlds with vicious apex predators, especially intelligent ones, probably won their dominance in this way. And then there are those that expand their genetic reach in even more fearsome ways: through forceful parasitism and assimilation.

Points for Discussion

1. Can the niche of a sci-fi species be considered a novum of its own? If yes, how so?
2. Look for examples of alien species in a shared sci-fi universe that are (or may be) results of allopatric speciation.

• In biology, we try to make sense of species and their evolutionary relationships through classification, which is ==placing them in distinct groups called taxa (singular: taxon)== like specific kingdoms (e.g. Plantae, Animalia), phyla (e.g. Chordata, Arthropoda, Cnidaria), classes (e.g. Mammalia, Amphibia, Insecta), etc. that share very similar characteristics.
  • This, along with naming species, is a practice in the science of taxonomy.
• Like what Sir. Ron says in his article “Mutations and Metamorphoses: Body Horror is Biological Horror” (Journal of Popular Film and Television 40:160-168, 2102) about hybrids in body horror cinema, ==the other-ness of aliens may perhaps be treated as a taxonomic cognitive estrangement, because they defy Earth-based categorizations even if they seem similar to our life-forms.==
• When trying to make sense of sci-fi aliens, it is ==safe to assume that life on these other planets have the same genetic code and follow the same genetic mechanisms and evolutionary tendencies as life on Earth==, unless the text tells us otherwise.
  • So we can expect very similar forms to Earth’s organisms, with liberal modifications, to populate fictional worlds.
  • On Earth, the most common animals are arthropods (those like insects, spiders, and crustaceans that have jointed appendages and a hard chitinous exoskeleton), molluscs (soft-bodied often shelled animals like snails, bivalves, and squids), and chordates (the large group that includes vertebrates like ourselves). Can we expect to see the same trends in science fiction?

As a an exercise in exploring the biodiversity in sci-fi, go to the Alien Species Wiki and select one (1) alien species (try one that isn’t too popular or obvious!) and use the following dichotomous key to try to classify it according to Earth definitions (which as of now are the only ones we have to go by!). We’ve said that the cognitive estrangement in these alien life-forms may lie in their blurring of our taxonomic categories, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t try to make sense of them!

• One important part of reading science fiction creatures is looking at ==how their design affects their semiotic content==–the ways in which how they look and function as organisms contribute to the meaning/s they communicate as part of text.
• While the creatures and worlds of science fiction are imaginary, this is not to say they come purely from the imagination. All science fiction is produced by at least one author rooted in what we know as the real world (what Suvin calls “the set normative system”), and so ==every work of science fiction is necessarily informed by and responding to the real world==, at least as perceived by the author. - This is ideally true on a scientific level–if we believe good science fiction is at least somewhat informed by the principles of good science–but it is also true on a literary level. - What this means is that we, as both readers and authors of science fiction, come into it with ==our own set of biases that shape our reading==, and these are perspectives we can both employ and interrogate when it comes to examining the fantastic nova that inhabit our stories.

• In the Kickstarter-backed Hyperlanes, a sci-fi campaign setting that uses D&D 5th edition rules, race (here called species) selection in the process of character generation provides more flexibility, allowing a player to create new species using template traits for common biological forms. Read Chapter 1: Species of the player’s guide.
• For this discussion and the special quiz, you need to read the section on Physiology (starting on page 6), but we highly encourage you to read the entire chapter.

Here are the Physiologies that the book offers as options, with Ron’s notes on the biological bases for their suggested traits:

• Amphibian: I wouldn’t say that amphibians are naturally more dexterous than us or our fellow mammals, but their tongues are definitely quick at capturing prey! Take note that not all amphibians can leap like frogs do, because salamanders are also amphibians, and so are some limbless, snake-like animals called caecilians. Quite a number of amphibians do have poisonous skin, so that’s a good call, but usually you’d have to ingest the animal or get its toxins in your blood to be affected (and that’s why they’re poisonous and not venomous). But the more accurate traits here are Prefers the Damp and Water Adapted. Being direct descendants of fish and spending their larval stages in the water, amphibians are largely semi-aquatic, and they cannot survive in dry environments because they need to breathe through their skin.
• Arthropoid: In kingdom Animalia, the term “arthropoid” would actually refer to organisms that belong to phylum Arthropoda, which is distinct from other groups of animals due to their exoskeleton made of chitin or calcium carbonate, which they typically shed, and their jointed appendages (including legs and wings). So the Body Armor and Extra Limbs traits have those covered. It’s good that they didn’t include flight as a trait because insect wings are too flimsy to allow a human-sized individual to truly fly.
• Arachnoid: Biologically speaking, arachnids are actually also arthropods, but I suppose having the ability to produce your own webbing gives you the right to your own template. The Spinnerets trait covers that and is amusingly accurate because that’s really what a spider’s silk-spinning appendages are called. Take note, however, that scientifically, the term arachnid refers not only to spiders but also to scorpions, ticks, mites, and harvestmen (daddy longlegs).
• Aquatic: It’s a catch-all template that could easily mean you’re fish-like as much as it can mean that you’re a giant jellyfish. The Water Mastery trait is obvious, but the 360 Vision and Pilot’s Mind traits are inspired additions because being surrounded by water and receiving stimuli from all around you at the same time does give you a different sort of perspective (I could imagine). This is especially true of radially symmetrical organisms like jellyfish that have sensory cells arranged all around their bell (that round part that looks like a head but isn’t), but in a certain amusing way, the same can also be said of fish because of their lateral line system and the freaky fact that they have taste buds on their skin.
• Avian: The writers aren’t fans of the aarakocra, are they? Instead of giving this template true flight, they limit the wings’ capabilities to gliding. I wouldn’t use size as an excuse, as there have historically been pretty big natural fliers in Earth’s history, but it would make sense for avian characters to have lighter, hollow bones, so I would probably consider decreasing Constitution a bit. Birds, especially the predatory ones, do usually have keener eyesight and larger optic lobes than most other animals, so Superior Vision and Pilot’s Mind are a nice touch.
• Cephalapoid: Did anyone say Cthulhu? The amazing group of animals called cephalopods, which is a type of mollusk, deserves so much more than the typical aquatic traits and the Extra Limbs feature. I’d personally throw in a Constitution increase given their toughness, something that enhances their Perception because of their sensory acuity, and some special camouflaging ability due to their ability to control their pigmentation. Now THAT would make an awesome character race.
• Fungoid: Dispersed Physiology? Iron Constitution? Mycotoxins? Saprophyte? These authors had a ball with designing this template, the most unique of all of them (maybe they were on shrooms). Each of these traits is spot-on in portraying the novelty of the lowly fungus and makes for a character design unlike any other. if I were to nitpick, I’d swap the touch-dependent Mycotoxins ability with one that allows the character to disperse poisonous spores, but that’s probably asking for too much. And also, fungi don’t have brains. Or a head. But we’re talking about humanoid fungi anyway.
• Gastropoid: Another mollusk, gastropods are a group of animals known mostly for the shells that they have on their backs, but do note that there are shell-less snails (generally called slugs). The Slime Trail is a nice (if a bit gross) touch, though I’d have added some form of communication with fellow gastropoids in that ability. Also, the Armored Body trait is cool and all, but let’s all remember that you’d have to be lugging that large, cumbersome thing around with you. One question: can they hide inside their shells?
• Mammalian: Given how highly social an animal a typical mammal is, the Group Behavior feature makes sense. The four subtemplates give some variation to what would have been an otherwise uninteresting template (there’s only so much benefit you can gain from fur and mammary glands) and touch on peculiarities of some major mammalian lifestyles.
• Plantoid: Obviously, Photosynthesis is the best and most scientifically accurate feature of this template. I would have taken that trait further to waive the character’s need to eat food as long as it gets regular sunlight exposure. And what about thorns?
• Reptilian: The Natural Weaponry, Scaly Armor, and Darkvision traits are expected. Venom would have been a nice touch, but of course not all reptiles have venomous bites.

(Sir AJ’s Note : The way games address race–or, if you prefer, species or ancestry or physiology–is a highly animated area of discussion in gaming circles, particularly in systems like Hyperlanes and D&D where there are multiple sapient species. If we distinguish these species mechanically, how much of that is rightful respect for biological diversity, and ==how much of that is reproducing the colonial mindset that some races are inherently better than others at certain things?== Consider how humans are always portrayed as a jack-of-all-trades species in fiction, whereas nonhuman species tend to be pigeonholed into particular cultures or stereotypes–goblins are almost always savage enemies, elves are almost always ethereal and graceful and wise, and so on–and then think about how that lines up with real-world stereotypes about different human ethnicities.)

• Broadly speaking, the heptapod’s design is reminiscent of three things: a squid or octopus, a seven-fingered hand, and at the top, the barest suggestion of a human head and torso.
  • Cephalopods like squid and octopi are among the most alien-looking creatures we have on Earth, largely because their bodies are so dissimilar to ours: they have tentacles instead of jointed limbs, the tentacles are all in one place, and it’s more difficult to ascribe orientation (e.g. forward, backward, up, down) than it is for ours.
  • The heptapods take these traits and echo them, even moving in a squidlike manner and communicating through disgorging squid-like ink. Much about the design of the heptapods is meant to ==intentionally invoke our conceptions of squid and octopi==, which then draws on all our associations of them as ==strange, alien creatures. ==
• ==This design philosophy is echoed in the heptapod script:== just as the heptapods have “no forward or backward movement,” so too does their language not read in a linear way, and this is further echoed by their perception of time.
  • The Cards/Sapir-Whorf hypothesis quoted in the film–the real-world theory that ==the structure of our language affects the way we see the world==–is born out in the way the creatures’ language, perceptions, and appearance all reflect and reinforce each other: radial, nonlinear, otherworldly.
• But the heptapods are more than just calligrapher squid–==they also incorporate some human elements, but in a highly defamiliarized manner. ==
  • The top of the heptapod looks like a human head and torso, but stripped of all identifying features.
  • The form of the squid, which already sort of resembles a tentacled hand, has the hand-like aspect of its design heightened: the limbs of the heptapod look more like spider legs or human fingers, and each of them ends in its own set of starfish-like fingers or tendrils.
  • The hand is traditionally seen as an image of familiarity and affinity: humanlike hands are things we can shake, things that hold things the way we do, things we associate with caresses and intimacy and humanity.
    • But the heptapods subvert that expectation by estranging the image of the hand: the hand becomes the entire body (which then has its own, smaller hands, which totally isn’t creepy at all), the number of fingers becomes seven (a number we are not used to seeing in anatomy), and the fingers at once resemble tentacles and spider limbs.
    • This design exemplifies ==the blend of cognition, the understanding of the familiar, and estrangement, the divergence from expectations of normality==, that is at the heart of science fiction. The heptapods are bizarre and relatable, known and unknown to us.

• Often, we humans judge other creatures according to their proximity to the human norm: ==we find things that “look more human” more appealing, while othering and fearing things that are less so. ==
  • This shapes, for example, our perceptions of the human-looking aliens of the Star Trek universe vis-a-vis the way we see the alien bugs from properties like Alien, StarCraft, Warhammer 40K, Ender’s Game, and George R. R. Martin’s “Sandkings” (which, spoiler, is one of our readings for this module!).
  • On one level, this is natural, but on another level, it can be problematic if not outright dangerous: ==the very natural human affinity for things like us is also one of the ingredients that can fuel prejudice, racism, the violent subjugation of the other== that we see in both colonialism and fascism, you name it.
• Indeed, ==the very human-centric-ness of science fiction==–again, natural, as most science fiction that humans read is also written by humans (citation needed)–==is often used to center the dominant point of view== (often cis, straight, white, and male), ==while othering aliens and relegating “non-normative” characteristics== (e.g. queer-coded traits and androgyny, or those associated with indigenous people or people of color) ==to the realm of the exotic and different==, the alien zoo or safari which our heroes explore and subject to their gaze.
  • This is not to say that all evil bug aliens are actually the good guys, or that we should stop writing human protagonists and alien antagonists entirely and that all works that operate this way are Bad and Wrong.
  • This is merely to say that ==we need to be conscious of our biases when we explore science fiction==–who it centers, who it marginalizes, who and what it portrays as complex and sympathetic versus flat and stereotypical, what characteristics from real-life cultures and communities it invokes and in what contexts–==in much the same way as we should be conscious of them in real life. ==
  • A lot of good science fiction, especially these days, is likewise conscious of these biases, and may use and explore them as part of its project, and this is an exciting step in terms of seeing where the genre can go.

• “Sandkings” by George R. R. Martin is a story about pets and God. Or, to be more accurate (and less potentially heretical), pets and ==“God,” as in the general concept of a higher being (and the way we perceive and construct it, and the conditions under which we do so)== rather than any particular belief about one.
• It’s a story about ==gazing and being gazed upon==, and whether the one can truly happen without the other.
• It’s a story about a man named Simon Kress, an altogether terrible person who is utterly familiar to anyone who has ever fantasized about burning ants with a magnifying glass or playing The Sims just to watch virtual people suffer. And, as with so many works in our syllabus, it’s ==a story about power, and what power does to those who wield it and those who do not.==
• But mostly it’s about bugs.

• The central novum of the story is the titular sandkings, a creature best described as what happens when your ant farm decides to play DotA. Sandkings are social insect-like creatures with telepathic hive-minds centered on their maws, fertile queens that are described as looking like relatively large, slimy, featureless pieces of meat.
• The maws spawn and control mobiles, the ant-like warriors that comprise the bulk of a sandking colony that eventually metamorphose into second-stage forms and possibly even rare third-stage forms designed by the maw itself.
• Sandking colonies live in castle-like structures, and neighboring castles go to war with each other (or at least that is how they behave in captivity), and they seem to instinctively make art based on their keepers’ appearance (again, in captivity, at least).
• The main quartet of sandking colonies around which the story revolves are divided by color, with black, red, white, and orange colonies all displaying different tendencies, battle skills, and aesthetic preferences, although we know these aren’t the only colors that exist (Jala Wo has a yellow colony in her set).
  • We don’t know if the maws always come in sets of four, and we don’t know if each color is necessarily associated with a certain set of traits. What we do know is that the sandkings behave very differently when abused, something the story highlights in a number of ways.
• The sandkings are George R. R. Martin’s take on a classic science fiction trope: that of the alien bug.
  • From the tyranids of Warhammer 40K to the Brood who menace the X-Men to the Formics from Ender’s Game, bug aliens are a common science fiction trope seen in a variety of texts across many media.
  • Whether they are sapient, feral, or individually animalistic but controlled by impossibly intelligent hive-minds, they very often fall into the “other” category: whether deserved or not, whether subverted by the text or played straight, they are the alien to our human, the them to our us.
• Some traits often shared by bug aliens are the following:
  • Often not humanoid; even the more humanoid ones often have extra limbs (insect/non-human-like traits emphasized)
  • Far too large (amps up their creepiness and unfamiliarity; giant bugs are scary)
  • Collectivist societies, often ruled by hive-minds (this is an estrangement of the way real eusocial insect colonies behave)

• Let’s dwell a bit on something that Sir. AJ just mentioned: Cards/Eusociality. Among animals, eusociality is the ultimate expression of altruism: ==individuals in a colony are willing to sacrifice themselves for the benefit of the colony. ==
  • Think bees, which die when they sting threats to their hive and their queen. As you may have guessed, such selfless living is quite rare in the natural world. Most known eusocial species, of which there are only few, are insects like bees and termites. There are a few in the marine environment like certain species of sponge-dwelling shrimp.
  • Among mammals, there’s only one type of animal known to be eusocial. No, it’s not humans. It’s the naked mole rat.
• What do eusocial species have in common? It’s important to take note that they live in tightly knit groups, specifically colonies, where a distinct division of labor is dictated upon by genetically predetermined roles.
  • Because young that are born into the colony do not leave the home, there ends up being an overlapping of generations. Typically, there is only one reproductive female and so is the source of all progeny, making all her offspring virtually identical (especially in cases where there is also one only reproductive male). That’s partly why self-sacrifice is ok, specifically from a genetic perspective; ==the loss of one individual isn’t too much to bear if there are many other individuals that are genetically identical== (and since we’re talking about organisms like insects, when we say “many,” we mean many).
  • All non-reproductive individuals have roles in maintaining the colony, with the largest ones usually being relegated to defensive functions (and that’s why most eusocial species are characterized by some weapon, like a bee’s sting, an ant’s mandibles, a shrimp’s claws, and a naked mole rat’s…naked ugliness? It’s a confusing animal.).
• It’s fascinating how ==true altruism has been used by sci-fi as the basis for many of the most frightening characteristics of malevolent alien bug races, including the “hive-mind” social structure== (which, luckily enough for us feeble humans, is also often their greatest weakness, as exemplified by Starship Troopers and Ender’s Game).
  • Speaking of the hive-mind, the members of a eusocial colony are of course not joined telepathically and they don’t “think and act as one,” but their collective actions are certainly guided and their social structures maintained by pheromones, which are hormones used within a species for a variety of purposes like finding mates, marking territory, tracking food sources, etc.
  • And killing the queen will weaken the colony and cause a lot of disarray for a while, but it won’t kill all the other individuals like some sort of kill switch. In fact, queens that die are usually quickly replaced by the next dominant female.
• Having said all of that, the sandkings have many other peculiarities that don’t have an analogue in the real biological world, which I think begs the question: Do they behave like this in the wild? Or maybe an even better question is: Do they actually exist in the wild, or are they a scientific creation, such as through genetic engineering? They’re as mind-boggling as naked mole rats.

• It’s impossible to really talk about the sandkings without also talking about Simon Kress, their owner and the ostensible protagonist (if not hero) of the story.
• Kress’ relationship to the sandkings is ostensibly ==panoptic, quite literally a relationship built around watching them:== he buys them as entertainment and keeps them in a clear tank that allows them to view them from above.
• The sandkings’ ability to look back up at him is limited by their small size, his great height and distance, and the rather more pressing matter of the other sandkings trying to kill them.
• The sandkings can only escape Kress’ perception by burrowing underground or remaining within their castles, while Kress can fully evade and manipulate the sandkings’ perceptions of him through leaving the vicinity of the tank and changing the hologram of his face that he willingly and voluntarily provides them.
• More, while Kress can always affect the sandkings–through giving or withholding food, manipulating their environment, stabbing them from above, and so on–the sandkings in turn cannot affect him in turn without leaving the tank.
• The power relations at play between Kress and the sandkings have elements of the Cards/Panopticon, the ==system of surveillance and social control== theorized by Michel Foucault, as well as a colonial setup with ==Kress acting the part of surveilling colonizer to the sandkings’ observed colonial subjects. ==
  • The gaze signifies ==the power of the colonizer–the power to perceive==–and the story shows us how this is detrimental to the sandkings, as under Kress’ abusive gaze they are no longer “courtly ritual warriors” but starving, desperate, and angry.
  • The text likewise shows the ways in which the colonized can strike back: at first subversively, through the art that the sandkings make of Kress, and then more openly, through their conquest of his home. (#TeamSandkings, btw.)
• ==Colonized and colonizer alike are scarred by the relationship of domination:== the sandkings are warped and traumatized, both while Kress is in control and even after they escape the tank. Kress, meanwhile, eventually begins to be subsumed into the telepathic hive-mind himself and is later forced to flee his home, but even before the sandkings escape, we see how the sandkings bring out his worst tendencies, encouraging him to make insane choices that center them, and his obsession with and control over them, in his life.

• Ultimately, “Sandkings” is a story about power– ==the power we wield over those we perceive, the ways in which the powerful and the seemingly powerless interact, what power does to us all. ==
• It’s also just a really fun story about a terrible asshole of a man and the incredibly interesting bugs with which he becomes obsessed.
• It’s a great example of part of the course’s spirit: ==our encounter with the alien, our recognition that the alien is at once more different from and more similar to us than we realized, and the ways in which we are changed by this recognition.==

Discussion Questions

1. Do you think the sandkings’ status as bug aliens affects the reading of them as colonial subjects?
2. Pick one of the sandking colonies. Discuss what your chosen colony represents in terms of oppression and how the oppressed respond to it.
3. “Sandkings” focuses a lot on the sandkings’ portraits of Simon Kress–Jala Wo explicitly describes them as “worshipping” their owners. Do you think the story is making a point about worship? If so, what is it? If not, what else might this theme be trying to interrogate?
4. From a biological perspective, why are bugs so common in science fiction, especially as hostile invading alien races?

• The sixth episode of the third season of Love, Death & Robots introduces us to the Swarm, an alien species that seems like the 2020’s answer to the Zerg or the Tyranids.

• The creatures of the Swarm are a teeming collective with all the characteristics of a classic bug alien hive: multiple specialized castes that work together, a central queen, and a mode of communication that is complex, sophisticated, and largely impenetrable to humans.

  • (Although the Swarm uses pheromones and chemical signals, funnily enough much closer to how actual eusocial insects communicate than the psychic hive mind trope that defamiliarizes real-world ant and bee communication.)

• The Swarm is also an example of another classic science fiction trope, one that often occurs in combination with the alien bug trope: the assimilator, ==a type of creature that integrates other species into itself. ==

  • When combined with the alien bug, the assimilator trope produces inhuman hordes of creatures that are often described as ravenous spacefaring locusts, devouring entire worlds and integrating their native sapient and non-sapient populations into themselves to create new breeds and castes.
  • Semiotically, this takes the alien-as-inhuman-Other image that is so associated with the bug alien and takes it a step further: the assimilating bug alien is an Other that is not only inhuman, but an inhuman Other that is potentially capable of taking what is human and transforming it into something inhuman. Other-ness as infection, as contagious, as disease.

• If you want to read ==alien hives as a defamiliarization of collectivist societies as imagined by predominantly white writers from individualistic Global North cultures==, it’s pretty telling that such writers often write these swarms to be actively bent on expansion, as if the biological ability to assimilate necessarily brings with it the desire to do so (or alternatively reinforces it, as if expansionism is a natural, assumed way of thinking, which is itself an interesting notion to unpack).

  • In that same vein, it might be worth exploring how this trope lines up with ==how the Global North has portrayed collectivist cultures, philosophies, and ideologies in general==, but that’s a whole ’nother thing. (I imagine that for many writers, envisioning conquest as literal biological assimilation, outside of any statements about collectivism, whether implied or intentional, is just too tempting a metaphor to pass up!)

• But in “Swarm,” the titular creatures aren’t conquerors or genetic expansionists–they’re a largely insular, defensive species, one that seems to defend its own territories and assimilate invaders into itself but otherwise not possess a drive for conquest.

  • The queen isn’t a psychic warlord; if we’re to believe Dr. Mirny, the queen is primarily a producer of offspring, much closer to real-world insect queens.
  • The Swarm is framed as an impregnable biological fortress, an inscrutable machine that humanity wishes to penetrate with its gaze rather than an all-consuming tsunami that “we” must halt.

• I say “penetrate” deliberately–==just as the gaze is a tool of domination, so too can “understanding” be one of violence, as careless categorization can flatten complex rationalities into oversimplified caricatures and pave the way towards exploitation==, as demonstrated by Dr. Afriel’s plan for the Swarm’s creatures.

  • When we impose labels without leaving space for nuance or complexity–when we use our knowledge to speak over and pigeonhole other intelligences without allowing them to speak for themselves or share their own knowledges with us–==we too are attempting a kind of assimilation==, a subsuming of other rationalities into our own systems of knowledge, misrecognizing the Other and seeing only their Other-ness and how we ourselves define it.
  • (Put plainly: relating to other people purely through our own preconceptions and preexisting biases, rather than allowing ourselves to meet them as they present themselves and speak of themselves, is a really shitty way to get to know anyone.)

• What the Swarm does with Dr. Mirny and Dr. Afriel–take direct control of the former via a “brain” caste specializing in intelligence, coerce the latter into breeding with Mirny (or Mirny’s body) and raising humans loyal to the Swarm–is as terrifying as it is inhuman, and certainly plays into the horror-esque tropes associated with assimilator aliens.

  • But the brain creature claims to only be a few weeks old; if we believe it, it seems as though this behavior is simply the Swarm’s way of retaliating against an invader who’d sought to control it first (the “brain” explicitly says its creation is the result of “certain genetic protocols” being triggered by Afriel’s experiments).

• If “Sandkings” showed us a nightmarish, hyperbolized version of ==colonized subjects speaking back to their abusive colonizer in the colonizer’s own languages==, “Swarm” shows us another side of the coin: ==a “people” that refuses to be colonized==, that refuses colonizer definitions even up to and including their conception of being a political collective or a “people” at all, that uses a prospective conqueror’s own methods against them while remaining fundamentally unknowable, such that as the colonizer seeks to pigeonhole the alien into human categories, the only “human” knowledge they find in the alien is their own face weaponized against them.

Discussion Points

1. Dr. Afriel claims that because the Swarm creatures are nonsentient, breeding a Swarm queen and having her create a nest loyal to humanity would not harm anyone, as the human-controlled Swarm creatures wouldn’t be “staring up at the stars pining for their freedom.” Ignoring the ramifications of such an endeavor on the intergalactic balance of power, assuming humanity actually could create and control a new Swarm queen and nest, do you think this would be as harmless or victimless an endeavor as Afriel claims?
2. “Intelligence is not a winning survival trait.” Discuss.
3. Discuss #2 in line with the brain creature’s description of the Swarm’s strategies when confronted with hostile aliens ("[breeding] smarter, tougher versions of their [races] to fight them") as well as its own stated specialty likewise being intelligence. Is the brain creature contradicting itself?

We can attempt to talk about this in a number of ways (any number of which, if you wish, you can elaborate on in the discussion board):

1. What did you think of the work? Is this the kind of text you enjoy?
2. How does the text re/imagine parrots? How does it affect the way we view them?
3. What statement is the text offering about intelligence, sound, and the ways in which we see them?
4. If “The Great Silence” uses parrots as signifiers, what does it use them to signify? Do you think the signifier-signified model even applies to a work like this?
5. The story mentions the Cards/Fermi Paradox. What are some reasons why we haven’t heard (as far as we know) from extraterrestrial life, even if they’re likely out there?
6. The novum here is the premise: the narrator of the text is a parrot speaking to us, the audience. But you can also argue that this work might be considered nonfiction rather than science fiction, if you take the narrator parrot as a literary device rather than a literal presentation of a parrot who knows this much and is telling us about it. Do you have a view about what genre label or expectations to apply to this work? Do you think it matters?