A red rectangle with a BBC logo has appeared in the forest, and one furry fellow is investigating it with gusto. At the risk of anthropomorphising, the bear must be wondering where this curious object came from and what it is. The chances of the bears having seen before anything quite like this object are slim to none, which quite likely has something to do with how in thrall he/she is with the colourful curiosity.
We featherless bipedals do the same, and perhaps did even more in the past. The myriad of explanations, thoughts and ideas to have unfolded as a result of our investigations into the things we come across are, to a great extent, what make us human. And there's a good chance, or at least it would be a plausible explanation, that our propensity to be inquisitive was spurred by a novel event or thing that in some way stopped us in our tracks.
Like what happened to our hominid predecessors in 2001: A Space Odyssey.
Like what happened to our hominid predecessors in 2001: A Space Odyssey.
Whatever the shape of our metaphorical monolith, when we found it, we began to not just seek answers, but consciously create them as well. The Dawn of Man came the day we began to share the fruits of this labour. We had made the step from a private language to a public one, and we have been adding layer upon layer of complexity to our languages ever since. The work and thought of our forefathers can be seen, touched and heard today in our society, science, construction and culture; and it is incumbent upon us to continue the efforts.
Pardon the flight of fantasy, but instead of a higher state of consciousness using some unsuspecting bears to collect cutsey-points from an audience, what if our monolith had been something just as inconsequential, like a piece of scrap (or crap for that matter) from a passing space ship. A disused refrigerator, or a broken radioator, or whatever is probably being used out the somewhere in the vast expanse of space.
What if our most treasured, sacred and unifying concepts and beliefs were set in motion by the interstellar equivalent of a rusty hub cap? More to the point, would that make them any less important?
Pardon the flight of fantasy, but instead of a higher state of consciousness using some unsuspecting bears to collect cutsey-points from an audience, what if our monolith had been something just as inconsequential, like a piece of scrap (or crap for that matter) from a passing space ship. A disused refrigerator, or a broken radioator, or whatever is probably being used out the somewhere in the vast expanse of space.
What if our most treasured, sacred and unifying concepts and beliefs were set in motion by the interstellar equivalent of a rusty hub cap? More to the point, would that make them any less important?
No comments:
Post a Comment