Toy Story Alien Coin Bank

Oakland, CA, 1996

In 1993, I put together an unusual story for a newly launched magazine called Wired. Luminaries in the arts and sciences were asked to name the greatest new technological Wonders of the World. Their techno-wonders fell all over the map. They included the new generation of senior citizens (from author Douglas Coupland), talking primates (astronaut Mae Jemison), video games (Timothy Leary) and the self-cleaning garlic press (columnist Molly Ivins). My own contributions included ATMs and sunblock.

After the success of that first crowd-sourced feature, I pitched another story: Where should aliens land first?

Wired didn’t bite, but the idea still fascinates me. The Earth is like the blind man’s elephant. Any given landing site, from Paris to Pyongyang, would give our visitors an entirely different first impression of where they were—and who we are. Conversely, their choice of a site might be equally revealing. Imagine humanity’s collective reaction if our first visitors touched down on the Acropolis, surrounded by Chinese tourists…or at the Peace Memorial in Hiroshima—to let us know they’ve been watching. Central Park might seem like a given to New Yorkers, but our guests might prefer a remote corner of the Gobi Desert.

Sometimes—especially while I’m traveling in the developing world—I reflect on the enormous accident of where I first showed up: in a Bronx hospital. It was a stroke of luck for which I have no explanation.
I like to think, and it may be true, that we all enter this world with the curiosity and innate optimism of Toy Story’s Pizza Palace alien. But so much depends on our landing coordinates. Some of us get to be astronauts or journalists; millions of others struggle to survive. Sometimes we’re born under the smile of the Buddha. And sometimes we worship The Claw.