Why are we here?
It’s an age-old question, asked countless times throughout human history. We’ve managed to make some really great guesses, but the truth is that no one knows—even aliens.
In our search for answers, we looked into the void and saw…nothing.
I mean actual, literal emptiness.
Earth has a mass of about 1.3166×10^25 pounds, but even that is insignificant compared to the volume of the Universe itself. Earth is barely an electron in the grand scheme of things.
It’s a fundamental property of objects under gravity (and objects in general)—they all take the path of least resistance.
In the vacuum of space, where the only force of any importance is gravity, all massive objects tend to collapse into a spherical shape towards their center. But they aren’t actually perfect spheres; they bulge outwards at the sides due to the centrifugal forces produced by their spin.
What is a sphere, anyway? It’s just a 3-dimensional solid, and the most energy efficient shape possible. …
Look to the skies on a starry night, and it’s easy to be awed. With the naked eye alone, we can see almost two thousand stars. With a telescope, thousands more come into view. Breathtaking beauty, each and every night.
But there’s a sad twist to the observable Universe—that is all we get. Beyond that, we can absolutely, never, ever see anything else. In fact, everything we can ever see is only about 4% of what might be out there.
It all boils down to the way light works.
The Universe is forever expanding, as per the Big Bang. As…
Our species is Homo sapiens.
We are the dominant animal life form on Earth, have inhabited every continent, mapped out the entire planet, and even touched space.
Humans have thrived on Earth, not because we are stronger, or faster, than other animals. We survived because we are incredibly intelligent.
Or at least we were. Now, we’re just toxically stupid.
About a week ago, I realized I was getting dumber.
It wasn’t really a single moment of stupidity that made me realize that, but a chain of such moments. …
At some point or other in the future, humanity will be graded. Not by any mythical supreme being, but by the Universe herself, and the countless sentient species She has created.
And we will be found wanting. On our cosmic report card, we’ve failed.
Our species has had its fair share of triumphs and failures on its road to the top. We’ve put a man on the Moon, invented unbelievably powerful computers, and almost eradicated poliomyelitis.
But, at some point in the early twentieth century, our failures began to tip the scale. Now, we’ve messed things up so badly that…
Each time I look out the window of my spaceship, and see the Earth in all her glory, I feel…grateful.
Mankind has come so far seemingly all by itself, that we forget how lucky we are. Lucky that our planet is in the Sun’s Goldilocks zone. Lucky to have a protective atmosphere. Lucky to have evolved at all.
Our very existence seems somehow predestined, which is weird, and so I asked my ET friends, the Florg, what they thought about that. Maybe they appreciate the luck factor a bit more than humans do.
Scratch that — the Florg are diehard…
Intelligent life is full of problems. Some problems have obvious solutions. Others require a lot of time and effort to crack. And others have no provable solutions. Humans have yet to see the big picture—we’re still bogged down with the details. But my advanced alien friends, the Florg, know the right way of looking at things.
It’s easy to assume that an advanced race of aliens just popped into existence—god-like tech tends to overwhelm the senses. But that isn’t true. My alien friends, the Florg, passed through the same awkward phases of development that we humans are experiencing today. At…
Humans take it for granted that we can understand nearly everyone else on the planet with just a little effort— after all, we more or less think and speak the same way. But what happens when two species, with completely different evolutionary origins, try to start a conversation?
My spaceship tends to be quite noisy in the morning, what with the Florg making those ear-piercing screeches they call a spoken language. Today, amidst the racket, I wondered if every alien species sounded so… alien.
Humans evolved with a very versatile vocal toolkit, and a nearly infinite selection of producible sounds…
It’s common knowledge that we humans can’t imagine our deaths in enough detail. Every morning, billions of us wake up around the globe, most of whom expect to see the sunset and curse about there being too few hours in a day. 150,000 people die every day, in case you’re wondering, most of whom die of age-related causes.
A couple days ago, an artist I admired joined the dearly departed—much too soon, in my opinion. It got me thinking about the human idea of death, about all the uncertainty, fear and grief that surrounds it. …
It seems like the world is falling apart. Global temperatures are rising dramatically, a new strain of the coronavirus is spreading around the globe, and technology is still progressing faster than the system can handle. To my alien friends, these are the early warning signs of species adolescence.
The Florg evolved a couple hundred thousand years earlier than humans, so they’re kinda like our galactic elder siblings, you know—older and wiser. As such, they have a thing or two to say about growing up.
What exactly is a young species? Modern humans evolved from their ape-like ancestors around 300,000 years…