We are back home at Darwin’s View, and I am looking out at a fog bank. The weather outside is frightful and it’s raining, not snowing. An excellent excuse to curl up and nap, read, be cozy. Or to ask oneself this question . . . but first some background: Toward the end of The End of Animal Farming by Jacy Reese, Reese describes a possible future scenario for Homo s. Sapiens by extrapolating the direction of current research and experimentation. He imagines that our human population continues to burgeon and that we take our grown-in-Petri-dishes meats and our very own selves off into space, there to populate myriad planets.
My question: from a moral and ethical perspective, do we have that right? I mean, we’re probably going to do it. We, humans, are a no-holds-barred species. But does that make it right? We have wrecked havoc on Earth and have (arguably) not learned anything from that, yet off we go, with all our goo, to use and abuse other planets? We’re even laying the path by jettisoning our nuclear trash ahead of us. It seems to me, we should be learning our limits, not expanding them. Not acting like gods.
Uh, oh. Am I going to have to read Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged? Or, groan, The Fountainhead?
I ask myself, too, Does our species deserve to survive?
I know. There are some really cute baby humans being born, and some fabulous qualities about our species. When we act from our best part—our hearts—we are fairly okay. But when we don’t, which we seem to be doing these days, we are pretty hideous and oblivious. Which leads to a deeper question: is life just the fight of good and evil and the balance has tipped to evil? Because it will be expensive to move. So that means the ones who would survive and move from their luxury underground caves on this destroyed planet to the fancy-ass palaces extruded by 3-D machines on far off planets would be the extremely wealthy egomaniacs who, again arguably, are the ones pushing us over our planetary edges. They, who have lost connection to our soil and each other. They are dead inside (my assumption) and yet it will be their DNA that lives on.
. . . On the other hand, I don’t want to live on Mars so maybe, in the long run, Pangloss and Polly Anna are right: this is the best of all possible worlds and sayonara to the devils who move off it.
Oh, my. That was negative. Why? Perhaps because it’s been so long since I visited with the chickens. The weather is hideous. Snow is far more fun than rain. And, as I look out my window, I note not even the chickens are pecking about out there. I think I’m going out into it. How better to appreciate this beautiful world than to be out in the midst of a slush and sluice of rain, feeling the chill of the air on my face, in my lungs. And the chickens, I am sure, have things to say. Like, clean this coop now!
One: Might be a girl.
Two and the whiter one I’m thinking is a girl:
Three: Thinking the one on the right might be boy. But might be girl…
Four has the most piercing peep and has the most to say. And this might be a repeat of one of the above but none of them all together came out in other than blurred fashion….