My idea for a science-fiction novel is very simple. An old person walks by a group of young people talking and realizes that they are speaking an inhuman, alien language. How did this occur?
The infiltration of the aliens has been very slow and subtle. Almost unobjectionable. All this begins in a small town in a wooded area. The human survivors of the first contact never speak about their experience, but begin to notice incremental changes over the years. The influence spreads through the surrounding towns and the city is largely indifferent, until enough of the younger townfolk move to the provincial capital. And so on. There is no resistance, since only the very elderly can notice what is happening. Even the middle-aged become complacent (even!) since they have developed a degree of tolerance. In one or two generations, the bloodless conquest is complete.
Only a traveller returning home after many years will notice that something is amiss. Perhaps this traveller could narrate the events?
The novel admits of two interpretations: as a science fiction novel in which the aliens are an invisible presence, or as an allegory of the passage of time.
I realized I blogged before about this novel here.
1 comment:
It also runs counter to the common idea that those who grow up with something, are enmeshed in it, are those best able to speak of it. It would be a great thing to be a traveller, then.
So, how is Spain?
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