Divine Plan
I have heard that a belief in evolution used to be practically synonymous with atheism. To me, this seems unthinkable. Now that the first galactic survey has been completed, it is precisely the opposite: the world no longer has to choose between God and reality. We understand - I have always understood - that the two are inseparable.
When the first of the survey ships pulled itself away from the ring of satellites and factories endlessly turning in the upper reaches of Earth's orbit, we had no idea what we would find. We hoped for life, of course: some cousins among the stars to share our triumphs and our failures. But as I and the other pilots landed on world after world after world, what we would find became all too clear.
In our galaxy there are seven hundred and sixteen thousand, eight hundred and ninety-two planets capable of supporting life, and every last one of them does. A shocking discovery, of course, but not an eventuality we were unprepared to face. It was the manner of life they supported that took us by surprise.
Darwin's theory of evolution was originally posited to explain diversity, or so I have been told. But now, we have a much better understanding of the universe than poor Darwin, and we know that diversity - true diversity - is a myth. Seven hundred thousand worlds, and each and every one of them is indistinguishable from Earth - or at least, from Earth in the rough era of the late Cretacious.
At first, the dinosaurs were exhilarating. After all, many children choose early in their lives between careers in space travel or paleontology. Just because I am doing one doesn't mean I don't have a soft spot for the other. Or at least had. You see, after a while, the monotony of worlds inhabited only by thunder lizards became almost too much to bear.
Those with less experience than I of the endless dinosaur worlds - or perhaps merely those whose faith is stronger than my own - have called this irrefutable evidence of God's divine plan for humanity. Why else, they ask, would ours be the only world to be different? The only world to be struck by that disaster, that blessing, that allowed intelligent life to arise?
My Lord - or no longer my Lord - if what I am about to say is false, forgive me. But while my belief in You is unchanged, my faith is sorely troubled.
Seven hundred thousand worlds, and only one of them is different. Seven hundred thousand worlds, and only one of them was changed, by a disaster, an accident of space and time. I see no evidence of God's divine plan for humanity in this.
After all, I've walked on those worlds. I've stared Creation in the mouth. Stared God in the mouth.
It was full of teeth.
When the first of the survey ships pulled itself away from the ring of satellites and factories endlessly turning in the upper reaches of Earth's orbit, we had no idea what we would find. We hoped for life, of course: some cousins among the stars to share our triumphs and our failures. But as I and the other pilots landed on world after world after world, what we would find became all too clear.
In our galaxy there are seven hundred and sixteen thousand, eight hundred and ninety-two planets capable of supporting life, and every last one of them does. A shocking discovery, of course, but not an eventuality we were unprepared to face. It was the manner of life they supported that took us by surprise.
Darwin's theory of evolution was originally posited to explain diversity, or so I have been told. But now, we have a much better understanding of the universe than poor Darwin, and we know that diversity - true diversity - is a myth. Seven hundred thousand worlds, and each and every one of them is indistinguishable from Earth - or at least, from Earth in the rough era of the late Cretacious.
At first, the dinosaurs were exhilarating. After all, many children choose early in their lives between careers in space travel or paleontology. Just because I am doing one doesn't mean I don't have a soft spot for the other. Or at least had. You see, after a while, the monotony of worlds inhabited only by thunder lizards became almost too much to bear.
Those with less experience than I of the endless dinosaur worlds - or perhaps merely those whose faith is stronger than my own - have called this irrefutable evidence of God's divine plan for humanity. Why else, they ask, would ours be the only world to be different? The only world to be struck by that disaster, that blessing, that allowed intelligent life to arise?
My Lord - or no longer my Lord - if what I am about to say is false, forgive me. But while my belief in You is unchanged, my faith is sorely troubled.
Seven hundred thousand worlds, and only one of them is different. Seven hundred thousand worlds, and only one of them was changed, by a disaster, an accident of space and time. I see no evidence of God's divine plan for humanity in this.
After all, I've walked on those worlds. I've stared Creation in the mouth. Stared God in the mouth.
It was full of teeth.
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