Restoring the Code

It’s been quite a few years since I’ve laid eyes on any aliens. They haven’t come to me and I haven’t gone out searching for them. After my last foray into close encounters of the third kind, I figured it would be best to give myself some time off, and I’ve been relatively thankful that the aliens have felt the same.

It’s not that the encounter was unpleasant, per se, but I do have to admit that the searing pain that accompanied the initial mind meld was pretty voracious. It’s just that the whole ordeal was so far beyond anything I had experienced in my life, so far beyond anything I’d ever really wanted to experience. Once they’d coerced me into writing the book, the encounter was not one that I really wished to relive over and over again through the marketing of it.

Perhaps I was still struggling with feelings of inadequacy. Perhaps there was a generous sliver of myself which still questioned my sanity. Perhaps it was just an unfortunate accident that the end of the book coincided with my mid-life crisis and accompanying nervous breakdown.

Whatever the cause for my delay in sharing the book, now that I have rebuilt from the breakdown, found the opportunity in the crisis, and started to read through the book again, it does seem as though no time has passed at all. Yet time has developed a few discrepancies between the supposed reality of Now and what Was when I originally wrote the tale. There are things like the absence of the bench where I had the mind meld and the influx of homeless people in Sarasota. However, as I read it now, it seems as if there is some purpose in the discrepancies, as if there is either something we should either return to or grow from.

I think I’m ready to talk about what happened since the abduction and ensuing Estralarian Mind Meld. Although the experience taught me a lot and makes for a great story, considering that Sarasota has not yet become the marketing mecca the aliens prompted me to make of it, I’m pretty sure that the story is not quite complete. And considering all that has happened since, I think I have a few stories left to tell.


Steve McAllister is the author of The Rucksack Letters and How to Survive an Estralarian Mind Meld. He posts regularly at and is currently the Director of Operational Development for the Common Wealth Time Bank in Sarasota, Florida. Follow him on Twitter, Facebook, and YouTube.


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