"Never use cliches in describing alien
life-forms," Professor Carner admonished his
class. But Eddie persisted—with good reason!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
December 1952
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Eddie McDermott paused at the door, then caught his breath and tiptoedinto the classroom and to his seat. Mort Eddison, his best friend,looked at him reprovingly; the class had been in session for almostfifteen minutes, and one just didn't come late to Professor Carner'slecture. Especially on the first day.
Eddie breathed easier as he saw that Professor Carner's back was to theclass as he completed a diagram on the blackboard.
"Now then," Carner said. "Suppose you were writing about the—ah—theVenusian Threngener, which, as you know, has three legs. How would youdescribe it?"
One of the students raised his hand. "I'd call it a three-leggedmonstrosity, spawned in the deepest hells of—"
"No," Carner said quietly. "That kind of writing might have been allright in the earliest days of our subject. But remember: You are nolonger dealing with a simple, credulous audience. To achieve the propereffects nowadays, you must underplay! Understand? Underplay! Now,someone else?"
Mort raised his hand, threw a glance at Eddie, and said: "How about,'this tri-pedal blob of orange protoplasm, octopus like in itsgropings—'"
"That's better," Carner said. "Tri-pedal is very nice, very exact. Butmust you compare it to an octopus?"
"Why not?" Mort asked.
"An octopus," the professor said, "is a well-known form of Earthlife. It inspires no terror, no wonder. You might better compare theThrengener to another strange monster; a Callistan Eddel-splayer, forexample." He smiled winningly at the class.
Eddie frowned and scratched his blonde crewcut. He had liked it betterthe first way. But Carner should know, of course. He was one of thebest-known writers in the entire field, and he had done the college afavor by agreeing to teach the course. Eddie remembered reading someof Carner's stuff. It had scared the living daylights out of him whenhe was younger. That description of Saturnian brains immobilizingEarth-confederation ships, for example. That had been a great yarn.
The trouble is, Eddie thought, I'm just not interested. He had hadserious doubts about this course. Actually, he had signed up onlybecause Mort had insisted.
"Any questions at this point?" Carner asked. One of the students—aserious-looking fellow wearing black horn-rimmed glasses—raised hishand.
"Suppose," he asked, "suppose you were writing a story speculating onan interstellar combine formed with the purpose of taking over Earth?Would it be permissible, for greater contrast, to make Earth's enemiesblack-hearted villains?"
A political thinker, Eddie thought with a sneer. He glanced hopefullyat the clock.
"It wouldn't be advisable." Carner sat casually on the corner of hisdesk. "Make them human also; show the reader that these aliens—whetherthey have one head or five—have emotions understandable to them. Letthem feel joy and pain. Show them as being misguided. Pure evil in yourcharacters has gone out of fashion."
"But could I make their leader pure evil?" the young man asked, busilyjotting down everything Carner had said.
"I suppose so," Carner said thoughtfully. "But give him motivationsalso. By the way, in dealing with that sort of story—the panoramickind—remember not to oversimplify the aliens' problems. If they amass