Friday, September 15, 2006

extraterrestrial habitation

Some theoretical scientists (Kaku for instance) believe that the preservation of the human species lies in extraterrestial habitation-- on planet Mars, more specifically. You think about Cydonia-- the face and the pyramids, and you're not sure if you want to mix with the dudes that already live there. Martians are kinda freaky, as far as you're concerned. Didn't H.G. Wells already give us a heady warning?

(Post-Earth Habitat genus)

Richard C. Hoagland is your main source of current information and speculations regarding Mars. He claims that the existing structures on Mars are likely ancient and uninhabited. This doesn't make you feel more comfortable with the thought of moving there. There aren't many options, you realize, as we haven't figured out the bredth of secrets in anti-gravity, space-time or the multi-verse. But even if its true that we can artificially enduce a breathable atmosphere on the red planet, you prefer to stay right here on the blue one, however ugly it may become.


3 Comments:

Anonymous Molly said...

Lisa I'm wondering if in November you want to help me figure out how to grow indoor geraniums. Make them flower by January. And Hibiscus. Even Jasmine. Try to recall Spain from the frozen heart of Montreal. (For be prepared. It will freeze here this winter. But it's true that we're alive for the age of the ice-cap! And one balmy February many years from now when warm salty tides are licking our ankles, trickling in through our open front doors, we will tell your Grandchildren (for you will certainly be the haunter of a future dreamer of ancestors) about how all this steamy life used to congeal into mysterious crystals and cracking bones when sapped of warmth. Even people were drawn closer then, bumping noses as they simultaneously tried to hover their coffee cups at kitchen tables. They would laugh and try again.
"The flesh on peoples faces used to be different," I’ll remind you. "Oh yes! Now it’s plump and golden. Like you, little ripe peaches! In those days mysterious patterns would creep over our brittle skin."
"Like a thousand miniature crows had danced on you in your sleep."
"People used to stare at themselves in mirrors of chilly, dimly lit bathrooms. 'Look how it both grows and shrinks...' they would murmur and reach up to touch the flesh of a cheekbone."
"All myriad of patterns used to form on the faces of the late-young in those days!"
And you and I will lean back and laugh as grandchildren stare at us in fear and wonder and then reach up to touch our curious crumpled skin.
We'll have faces like maps of the worlds washed away.)
Maybe this winter, beside a blue stove-flame, we can turn the now lifeless knook in the corner of this kitchen into a tropical memorial of the future.

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