Mi propia reacción a los más recientes avances en parametrizar la ecuación de Drake y poner fin a la paradoja de Fermi puede ser ilustrada, irónicamente, con un par de pasajes de una novela de ciencia ficción con colonias humanas en otros planetas:
“In the beginning was the Word. Then came the fucking word processor. Then came the thought processor. Then came the death of literature. And so it goes.”
― Martin Silenus (Dan Simmons): Hyperion (1989).
“[…] posteriormente trepé a uno de los picachos del territorio loba, más adentro, para no perderme esa visión del poderoso Brahmaputra. También desde un poco más arriba del pueblo pude contemplar a mi gusto el Tíbet al Nordeste y al Oeste, mientras al Sur tenía todo el Mustang a mis pies. Su territorio parecía un océano de olas retorcidas y atormentadas, un mar fosilizado derramándose entre dos cordilleras, y terminando junto a las islas, blancas de nieve, del Annapurna y el Dhaulagiri, que se alzaba al Sur. Casi cien kilómetros me separaban de aquellas cimas, que parecían estar allá abajo mismo; tuve la sensación, que nunca había sentido antes, de hallarme en pie sobre el mundo entero, la mitad del cual bajaba a mis espaldas hacia el Tíbet y Mongolia, mientras que la otra mitad se extendía ante mí, descendiendo en dirección a la India y a un universo tropical. Si de verdad el mundo tenía techo, sin duda era éste. Ciertamente, había encontrado el “horizonte perdido”, un pequeño mundo recluido y oculto en una de las zonas más inaccesibles de nuestro planeta.
“At the dusk of time, I, a small dot reached the edge. I have re-ached the place wheere the line blurs, werhe the imposible is possi-sible. This is the place where everything exists, where time is not time, where space is not space. There is beaty, more than the eye can hold; all the good and bad, beautiful and hideous, serene and sinister coexist, suspended in nothing and everything; you may not see one, for one is all. I am pleased to advanced thus far, but I know I can not go further. For matter of mortal material like me and the ship I’m in can not grasp such concept, they do not possess the power, they do not posess the processing to distinguish true and fake, self and others. The cosmos is unstable, and so are we now. We’re becoming one, we’re becoming all. Because, one and all has no memory of self and others. All that exist in H$#e that (as a )#rpo(se #$ the memory remaining on us mortals; and that is — “
– Nassault
2yr ago
“There is a friend who is sad. You roll one and go over there to see him. It’s a summer night. Traffic lights are glowing. The streets are bluish and hot. You see a girl who waves to one of her friends. There are conversations you are not a part of. That’s how it goes.
You decide to drink. There is a bar nearby that you went before. With who? You dont remember. Some things stay buried in the memory. You drink a couple of cheap tequila real quick. The high catches you. That was what you were after. You were chasing that cloudy feeling.
You go to your friends house. He is watching an episode of some boring sit com. You sit there together, laugh in synch with the laugh track. This summer will be hot and possibly depressing. Not like the ones of your childhood. You know this. Everyone does. But that night you feel good. Sometimes you feel apart from the space time continuum.
And sometimes that’s enough.”
—Emirhan Burak Aydın, 2 yr ago
You all know, there are some occasions on which winter times steal a day or two to July and August. Weather is suddenly sunny, not a single breeze blows, and clouds are only seen far in the distant horizon. I noticed, during this last year, that gazing at the reflections on the sea surface in the mornings happens to be a delight, indeed. It’s then when you realize that East coast has its own charms, in a way.