"Passagerare"
Den här berättelsen av Robert Silverberg publicerades först 1968, så du kunde lätt läsa den på 70- eller 80-talen.
Samhället har förändrats vid ankomsten av utlänningspassagerare, som tar kontroll över personer på ett ögonblick (även om de inte uttryckligen är etablerade som utomjordiska).
De personer som besitter kallas "ridd":
I began to walk without purpose. I cross Fourteenth Street, heading north, listening to the soft violent purr of the electric engines. I see a boy jigging in the street and know he is being ridden. At Fifth and Twenty-Second a prosperous-looking paunchy man approaches, his necktie askew, this morning’s Wall Street Journal jutting from an overcoat pocket. He giggles. He thrusts out his tongue. Ridden. Ridden. I avoid him.
Samhället har justerat:
The Passengers arrived three years ago. I have been ridden five times since then. Our world is quite different now. But we have adjusted even to this. We have adjusted. We have our mores. Life goes on. Our governments rule, our legislatures meet, our stock exchanges transact business as usual, and we have methods for compensating for the random havoc. It is the only way. What else can we do? Shrivel in defeat? We have an enemy we cannot fight; at best we can resist through endurance. So we endure.