I am abandoning my sense of cynicism.
Of course, that is wishful thinking. There's no way my brain will ever unknow the things it knows.
I know that those of us that don't drown or fry or get the business end of an oppressive government or a thousand other more detailed and dreadful scenarios will simply suffer from witnessing the fall of humanity.
And that's a real bummer.
Sure, the waters will rise, the earth will shake, and EVERYONE will be extra thirsty. We all know what happens to humans when they get THIRSTY.
But I can no longer maintain my cynicism despite these facts. Why? Because of Star Trek and Cosmos.
That does, at first seem damned silly. Especially when you figure how nobody with any power listened to a damn word Carl Sagan said, not so you'd notice anyway.
But it's not the hope of exploration and peace that frees me from the bounds of equal part fear and resignation, nor is it powerful insights into our own history in this vast universe. It's the fact that these TV shows exist at all.
We, a smattering of stardust in meat-form made TV shows! Not only that, we made TV shows about how badly we want to get back out into space, from whence we came. That is not only TOTALLY FUCKING COOL, but it shows us something essential:
Star dust can make TV shows.
Let me repeat that:
Star dust can make TV shows.
And sure, TV shows, on the cosmic scale aren't that important, that's not the point. If star dust can make TV shows once, they can probably do it again. And again, and again, and again. Why not?
Yes, it's going to be a real shit-show here on this dirt ball. People will suffer...more than they already are, which is kind of incredible in and of itself. We are going to leave this universe shrieking, no doubt about that.
But it's not exactly a universal tragedy, is it? I mean, do you want HUMANS exploring the stars? Jesus, NO!
Not that it's a moral dilemma we will have to face because we're past the point where that was a possibility, and I think we should be grateful for that. We had our chance, we had every natural resource needed to reach our bloody hands past the sky, and we blew it before we realized we blew it.
And that's a sad story and all, but I take extraordinary comfort in knowing some other intelligent life will, or has, not made the same mistakes as we. Maybe they won't even bother with TV, but I kind of doubt it. They will dream hard, just as we have, and they will do a better job. Not on this planet, of course, but somewhere in that epic vastness stories will be told and broadcasted into a future that isn't essentially doomed.
We failed the only litmus test that matters: Can you sustain yourself?
The answer is a resounded, deafening NO.
And that's ok, because there's still time, time enough for love, time enough for being honest with ourselves about who we are and what we want, time enough for us all to savor each moment of our stupid, pointless lives.
Either way, in 1000 years, if humans were to miraculously survive, nobody would remember who YOU are, so what, exactly do you have to lose?
Of course, that is wishful thinking. There's no way my brain will ever unknow the things it knows.
I know that those of us that don't drown or fry or get the business end of an oppressive government or a thousand other more detailed and dreadful scenarios will simply suffer from witnessing the fall of humanity.
And that's a real bummer.
Sure, the waters will rise, the earth will shake, and EVERYONE will be extra thirsty. We all know what happens to humans when they get THIRSTY.
But I can no longer maintain my cynicism despite these facts. Why? Because of Star Trek and Cosmos.
That does, at first seem damned silly. Especially when you figure how nobody with any power listened to a damn word Carl Sagan said, not so you'd notice anyway.
But it's not the hope of exploration and peace that frees me from the bounds of equal part fear and resignation, nor is it powerful insights into our own history in this vast universe. It's the fact that these TV shows exist at all.
We, a smattering of stardust in meat-form made TV shows! Not only that, we made TV shows about how badly we want to get back out into space, from whence we came. That is not only TOTALLY FUCKING COOL, but it shows us something essential:
Star dust can make TV shows.
Let me repeat that:
Star dust can make TV shows.
And sure, TV shows, on the cosmic scale aren't that important, that's not the point. If star dust can make TV shows once, they can probably do it again. And again, and again, and again. Why not?
Yes, it's going to be a real shit-show here on this dirt ball. People will suffer...more than they already are, which is kind of incredible in and of itself. We are going to leave this universe shrieking, no doubt about that.
But it's not exactly a universal tragedy, is it? I mean, do you want HUMANS exploring the stars? Jesus, NO!
Not that it's a moral dilemma we will have to face because we're past the point where that was a possibility, and I think we should be grateful for that. We had our chance, we had every natural resource needed to reach our bloody hands past the sky, and we blew it before we realized we blew it.
And that's a sad story and all, but I take extraordinary comfort in knowing some other intelligent life will, or has, not made the same mistakes as we. Maybe they won't even bother with TV, but I kind of doubt it. They will dream hard, just as we have, and they will do a better job. Not on this planet, of course, but somewhere in that epic vastness stories will be told and broadcasted into a future that isn't essentially doomed.
We failed the only litmus test that matters: Can you sustain yourself?
The answer is a resounded, deafening NO.
And that's ok, because there's still time, time enough for love, time enough for being honest with ourselves about who we are and what we want, time enough for us all to savor each moment of our stupid, pointless lives.
Either way, in 1000 years, if humans were to miraculously survive, nobody would remember who YOU are, so what, exactly do you have to lose?