Loving the Alien by John Fleming

People ask at readings where writers get their ideas.  Here’s one that fell from the sky, flickering in black and white.

I watched enough old sci-fi movies as a kid that the plots and settings blended together into a single 1950s sci-fi world.  That world is a small town in the American Southwest, surrounded by endless stretches of desert and mountains, an arid wonderland where stray objects—flying saucers, meteors with transformative powers—tend to crash and glow, attracting an old homesteader or a young couple making out in Dad’s Bel-Air on a moonless night.  Soon, a malevolent new creature scuttles from the crash site and out of the wasteland.  Panic.  A state of emergency.  The Jeeps roll in from the nearby base, the soldiers’ bullets but pathetic displays of useless aggression from primitive monkeyboys.  Fortunately, there’s a scientist in town, a man with answers—at least the ones a human mind can know.  First he must fall in love with the local school teacher/librarian/research assistant so he has someone to worry for him.  The scientist’s dangerous stratagem puts him in mortal danger.  It must be executed with radical precision and the grudging help of the military, or else the world as we know it will either cease to exist or will fall under the control of a robotic and heartless hyper-intelligence.Alvim-correa12 Continue reading