If I were an alien, I might welcome you with something like “Greetings from the Stars!” But that would be far too obvious, and I am much too secretive for such a suspiciously accurate introduction. (Okay, I'm joking - I do have green skin, after all. It's a bit difficult to be secretive!)
Besides, then you might start thinking I myself am an alien. You might also notice that most of my friends are not exactly ordinary Earth citizens either. Fair observation.
But Earth is my home now — especially Ottawa — ever since I escaped my former masters, landed on my own two feet, and established myself here among the humans, the weirdos, the dreamers, and the snack-havers.
So does that make me an alien? I suppose that depends what you mean by “alien.” Am I a monster? No! Am I different? Absolutely. Am I still a person, with feelings, friendships, lightning, and a place in this world? Also yes.
That is why I believe we should be decent to each other. Nobody should be treated like an outsider just because they look strange, come from somewhere mysterious, or have three electrified horns on their forehead.
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In this context, a non-human humanoid species, typically not originated from Earth.
If it's not an Earth creature like an animal, not a human being, and not an "alien" - then you're probably hanging out with a monster.
Unlike humans, all "aliens" do indeed do things that, from a human perspective, could be considered magic...
Advanced technology always seems like magic anyway from the eyes of those who cannot understand it.
I am not a dinosaur. I am not a vampire. But if people insist on calling me “Dracula of the Dinos,” I suppose there are worse publicity problems to have.
I have no memories of childhood. What I do know is that I was raised far from Earth by reptilian overlords who were farming human-reptilian hybrids in a distant star system. My skin was always green, but when I turned sixteen, three horns grew from my forehead — and to reptilians, horns are not a small detail.
They tried to kill me.
So I escaped to Earth.
Purple Girlfriend is my cherished companion, my fellow adventurer, and a princess of Purple Planet — known to Earth astronomers as TRAPPIST-1e.
Her true name does not translate well into human speech, and I am told several Earth languages would be damaged in the attempt. So she told us to call her Purple Girl. I called her Purple Girlfriend once that became more accurate.
She could have returned to Purple Planet and resumed her place among its royal house, with all the ceremonies, expectations, and ancient violet obligations that come with being born into such a family.
Instead, she chose Earth, travel, danger, laughter, and me.
I consider this a wise decision.
Boba claims he was born in a hidden city drifting inside Saturn’s atmosphere, disguised among storms large enough to swallow planets’ worth of trouble.
His people are secretive, careful, and very proud of surviving where nobody thinks to look. Boba, however, was more interested in music, snacks, expensive-looking coats, and making new friends with his glowing green eyes.
Saturn gave him safety. Earth gave him possibility.
So he came here, dressed exactly as he always dresses, and immediately improved the general mood.
This is not an official medical statement. It is simply what happened.
Formerly a Zeta Reticulan Grey, Gary got his identity from a psychic accident involving one of the first humans he ever encountered.
They never spoke, but Gary accidentally copied the human’s sense of self and changed forever. After that, he no longer seemed to understand himself as a Grey. He realized he was “just a normal guy,” left the scene, and began a modest but satisfying life on Earth.
He does not seem to remember much from before he became Gary.
This may be for the best.
I met The Wizard at the Interdimensional Rooming House in Ottawa.
Life there gets much stranger than him, though he is doing his part. He smells odd, dresses worse, and occasionally says things that make nearby objects nervous. However, he can make the impossible happen with magic when he feels like it, and he has been a reliable friend more often than reason would predict.
He enjoys danger. He enjoys fun. He does not enjoy laundry in any visible way.
I accept this.
