Thursday, October 1, 2009

Dreamer in the night

The New Genome project began too late, by educated estimates about 3 to 5 generations too late.

“We live in world today, a world seemingly spiralling out of control. Change takes each and everyone of us day by day and the world will not slow down to wait for us. These changes have, by and large been for the good of us all. These changes have allowed us to colonise not just Mars and Venus but several of Jupiters moons but this change has not been without cost.”

Recovery is unlikely, too many chains have been shattered beyond recognition and essential allele pairing and back cross examination is futile in the face generations of use of modern editory “same generation” technologies.

“It is in regards to this cost that I speak to you all today for I have a radical proposal. A historic proposal I would go so far as to say.”

After the Wars there was little left of earth to recover and the waste products from even the tamest of weapons scoured biology off of the earth, poisoning the sky and water and land beyond use or immediate recovery. Those that escaped could only look back in horror. The mental backlash and desire to distance themselves from the disaster cannot be properly understood by the current generation.

“Permit me to clarify my intent however. I would not propose “going back”. If this were even possible it would most likely only be tried by fringe elements as the benefits of change cannot be underestimated by anyone living in modern times. What little romanticism there may well be associated with the old days would quickly be disregarded by the gross impracticality given the current situation.”

Lacking the large scale infrastructure of the Earth it quickly became clear mankind, as it was, was ill suited to long term survival in the hostile reaches of space. A radical proposal was forwarded. Genetic engineering began on a massive scale.

“I hereby propose to have a cross-section of the DNA from all variant colonies be assembled as soon as possible and for this material to be cross referenced in an effort to establish as full a copy as possible of the original Human Genome.”

Splinter groups formed quickly in the rapidly changing populous of humanities remnants as individuals and groups chose how best to adapt to their new environments. Talk of terraforming Mars further then it already was fell on largely deaf ears. The lower atmospheric density made this form of communication less practical and its new natives were quite at home just the way it was. Similar occurrences took place in each space outpost and colony as groups “went native” adapting their genetics to better fit the environment rather then tearing the environment down to suit themselves. It was generally agreed to be a more elegant solution then the old way.

“I know at this point communications between our peoples are breaking down, that we are in fact not even one species anymore and share only a few trace traits. But I implore you to look to the future when the recovery of this information will not even be envisionable, let alone possible, and think on this now.”

There were hold outs of course, a few who refused to have their DNA twisted to fit the brave new world and the same thing happened to them that happened to any ill-adapted organism, they went extinct. Almost certainly some of the deaths were ill-investigated murders, but these are surely the exception rather then the rule. Humanity threw itself out for the new model. Most didn’t even look back.

“Let us reach back and at least remember where we came from one last time, in the name of peace and survival. Primary transmission ends.”
The speaker stopped its resonations and unfurled its optic fronds to the exterior of its carapace to the sight of the nearly full EM spectrum of the solar winds cresting Uranus, unfiltered by any planets gasses, it was lovely. Listening to the rebounded radio transmission from the planets ionosphere it made a satisfied internal chime and spoke again.
“We cannot see the world in our great grandsires eyes and I am not saying that we need to, but we owe it to the past to remember them and to the future to show them where they are from, should they get the urge to visit.”
The speaker pushed its perch away, grabbing its conveyance, some distant cross between a rocket and a glider, and began the lazy, long drift back home to the Saturn station. It drifted into the deep sleep and dreamed of walking on the Earth and of warm sunlight, so much poorer for being diluted by air and viewed by weak eyes that could see next to nothing, but still beautiful beyond words.

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