11-10-2014, 05:41 PM
It's easy to forget, but under the depression and angst and judeo-christian mythology, there's the guts of a genuine grand science fiction plot spread over aeons of time. Maybe that's what I like about it so much.... there's a lot more going on. Or hinted at.
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When we stared into the desolate abyss of annihilation, we created the Evangelion. It was our hope that, long after we had gone, some marker of who we were would remain, that someone would find it and the human within and know that this is what a human being was, and what humans had accomplished before time overtook them. It was eternal proof of mankind's existance.
Now, we know our existance was planned. Humans are not a natural species. The roadmap to our evolution is written in our genes, our past and future development encoded aeons before the first basic proteins came into being.
That's a staggering thing to process. For many people, it's a frightening concept. Thoughts turn to Gods when such things are suggested.
But, whatever they were, we call them the First Ancestral Race.
They were a people who were born on a world formed when the Galaxies themselves were young and the Universe was filled with brilliant stars. They grew and evolved beneath this shining new sky until they reached point where they could leave their homeworld behind and turn outwards to worlds beyond theirs.
They reached out, searching for others like them in the vast cosmos of possibility, certain that sheer probability guaranteed that somewhere, someone else had to exist.
And they found no-one.
The cosmos that greeted them was a desolate and empty place, scorched barren by the death-spasms of hypergiants.
Gradually, they came to realise that they were an accident in time, a race born billions of years too early in a universe actively hostile to life. They were an infinitesimal fluke so unlikely, that the chances of them ever finding another civilisation like themselves were so small as to effectively be zero.
They carried on nevertheless, striving towards new heights and new understandings in the hopes that they might somehow find a way to find someone out there. They mastered the clockwork chaos of the cosmos in ways that would be like Gods compared to us.
But they were still mortal. They were still fallible. They were lonely. The inevitability of entropy, that all things must eventually run down, finally caught up with them. And they were faced with the knowledge that, not only where they alone, but that every single thing that they had ever achieved would be lost. Everything they had done and achieved would be gone, and nothing and no memory of who and what they were would remain because there was nobody to remember them.
And faced with the stark desolation of time, they made one last great effort to leave something behind – some marker that they once existed, and someone to know that they once where. They created these automated terraforming systems we called Seeds of Life and launched them across empty space towards young stars which looked like they might one day in the future form worlds capable of supporting life.
Five billion years after they passed into the ashes of history, at least one little ember of who and what they where still burns.
Us.
And with us, their hope that someone, somewhere might grow to a point that they could reach to the stars and maybe find some evidence of who they once where. And hopefully, a universe teeming with life for us to meet.
________________________________
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
----------------
When we stared into the desolate abyss of annihilation, we created the Evangelion. It was our hope that, long after we had gone, some marker of who we were would remain, that someone would find it and the human within and know that this is what a human being was, and what humans had accomplished before time overtook them. It was eternal proof of mankind's existance.
Now, we know our existance was planned. Humans are not a natural species. The roadmap to our evolution is written in our genes, our past and future development encoded aeons before the first basic proteins came into being.
That's a staggering thing to process. For many people, it's a frightening concept. Thoughts turn to Gods when such things are suggested.
But, whatever they were, we call them the First Ancestral Race.
They were a people who were born on a world formed when the Galaxies themselves were young and the Universe was filled with brilliant stars. They grew and evolved beneath this shining new sky until they reached point where they could leave their homeworld behind and turn outwards to worlds beyond theirs.
They reached out, searching for others like them in the vast cosmos of possibility, certain that sheer probability guaranteed that somewhere, someone else had to exist.
And they found no-one.
The cosmos that greeted them was a desolate and empty place, scorched barren by the death-spasms of hypergiants.
Gradually, they came to realise that they were an accident in time, a race born billions of years too early in a universe actively hostile to life. They were an infinitesimal fluke so unlikely, that the chances of them ever finding another civilisation like themselves were so small as to effectively be zero.
They carried on nevertheless, striving towards new heights and new understandings in the hopes that they might somehow find a way to find someone out there. They mastered the clockwork chaos of the cosmos in ways that would be like Gods compared to us.
But they were still mortal. They were still fallible. They were lonely. The inevitability of entropy, that all things must eventually run down, finally caught up with them. And they were faced with the knowledge that, not only where they alone, but that every single thing that they had ever achieved would be lost. Everything they had done and achieved would be gone, and nothing and no memory of who and what they were would remain because there was nobody to remember them.
And faced with the stark desolation of time, they made one last great effort to leave something behind – some marker that they once existed, and someone to know that they once where. They created these automated terraforming systems we called Seeds of Life and launched them across empty space towards young stars which looked like they might one day in the future form worlds capable of supporting life.
Five billion years after they passed into the ashes of history, at least one little ember of who and what they where still burns.
Us.
And with us, their hope that someone, somewhere might grow to a point that they could reach to the stars and maybe find some evidence of who they once where. And hopefully, a universe teeming with life for us to meet.
________________________________
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?