Fox Mulder, X Files
The development of our cerebral cortex has been the greatest achievement of the evolutionary process. Big deal. While allowing us the thrills of intellect and the pangs of self-consciousness, it is all too often overruled by our inner, instinctive brain-- the one that tells us to react, not reflect, to run rather than ruminate. Maybe we have gone as far as we can go, and the next advance-- whatever that may be-- will be made by beings we create ourselves using our own technology. Life forms we can design and program not to be ultimately governed and constricted by the rules of survival.
Or perhaps that step forward has already been achieved on another planet, by organisms that had a billion years head start on us. If these beings ever visited us, would we recognize what we were seeing? Upon catching sight of us, would they react in anything but horror at seeing such mindless, primitive creatures?
Or perhaps that step forward has already been achieved on another planet, by organisms that had a billion years head start on us. If these beings ever visited us, would we recognize what we were seeing? Upon catching sight of us, would they react in anything but horror at seeing such mindless, primitive creatures?
How ironic that the writers and producers of The X-Files could come up with such prophetic words. It's strange, isn't it, to think that perhaps one day we might be the small insects, scattering as the light comes up in order to avoid being squashed flat. In a strange, cynical way, I find it rather amusing. Imagine, the almighty human looking up to see a superior being poised to exterminate us like the pests we so commonly look down upon. Perhaps it would be just. Too long have we egotistically claimed mastery of the planet.
True, I am also a part of this race, and am just as guilty of corrupting our Mother earth. Yet, strangely.. I feel more like an observer in this life, fleeting images of faces I once knew passing by in a rapid blur. Why do I feel this way, and why is it only on certain occaisons? Nevermind that.. Perhaps I was meant to be an observer, to write what I see, and never experience it firsthand. After all, we do need historians and writers, and who knows, perhaps I may even be a poet-- or just another cynic, sitting back on my enlarged buttocks and using the power of the internet to spread my own self loathing to the unsuspecting masses by senDing sublimInal mEssages. You'll never know exactly what happens within my own, twisted, abstract reality.. (Copyright of ME.)
