I have often thought to myself that all of this is much more fragile than people realize. Humans like to assume that things will not change. Considering what we are and how we got here, that supposition is silly at best.
We are change. We are a monumental force that struck this planet. Merely a few hundred thousand years ago, a biped was able to control fire. Since then we have changed the entire landscape. Our caves becoming more elaborate. The fire burning different fuels.
I am the child of an age of abstraction. My income generated by pressing buttons. The buttons sending inputs that are translated dozens of times into a visual representation. That visual representation again interpreted and leading to more button pressing. I send portions of my income to others that then push more buttons telling valves and switches to open or close. Eventually through all the layers of abstraction, I gain heat and light.
But, there are layers of abstraction, and those layers are susceptible to the variance of the physical world. A storm knocks over a tree... A tree falls on a power line... The power line breaks or disconnects... Suddenly, everything changes. The buttons are no longer connected. The fuel no longer reaches my fire. My cave is no longer a haven.
Now, the layers of abstraction are not truly gone. There are methods for reconnecting layers. Fire is still my birthright. I can still will it into existence. However, the ability to control it effectively has been lost. I can use another fuel to either power the control mechanisms or provide another source of heat and light. I can find other caves. Caves where the fire is still well controlled. All of the layers of abstraction are still in place, I am simply disconnected from them.
The truth becomes clear quickly. If we take away the grid, my place in the world must change dramatically. We would return to open hearths and candlelight. We would return to telling stories by the fire. We would return to schedules based around the sun. It is a world I have visited countless times, but it is not a world I can live in. It is not a world where I can provide food for myself and those I care for. It is a world where I have few skills of worth.
I would adapt. After all, I am human. I would begin reconnecting the layers. I would strive to bring us back... perhaps with some changes, but still to a world where I can press buttons. Where those buttons create signals and those signals can travel anywhere. I can live as my ancestors did. However, the truth is I won't.
Showing posts with label adaptation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adaptation. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Enlightenment
There is much to say and nothing worth telling. I do not always feel the need to write. I think that perhaps separates me from those we call writers. I write now. It is not the beginning of a great work. It is not a bit of prose that will change the world. It is simply scribbling. It is the realigning of thousands of bits in a patterned way.
Yes, somewhere in the universe a collection of creatures went to work. A collection of projects, plans, and ideas allowed for another set of projects, plans, and ideas. As of this moment, this is where one of these creatures sits.... writing... pushing on a series of buttons to form symbols the other creatures recognize. These buttons are part of a communication device. His body sits some distance above the planet he calls home. He is traveling at a relative velocity many times greater than his physical form is capable.
As he does this, a thought remains held by his consciousness. The thought that the amazement should be shared. The thought that while great members of his species made this moment possible, they brought millions of others with them. Whether they understood it or not, they set the stage to move forward. The elite are not of a single stock or bloodline or group. Those that do not wonder can be the progenitors of those that do. His species ability to adapt had made them what they were. The acceptance of those around him would allow them to take the next step. The things now thought impossible would become reality. The things he now considered a waste of the power they had been given would in some cases lead to greater powers.
He felt now and had always felt that there was no limit to the power his species could wield. He had looked through their histories. Again and again he had found instances where they thought things impossible. Instances where many had thought that things could not be done only to be proven wrong by a few. His species had physical limitations, however, by some great gift or accident they had been released from them. They had been able to leave the physical world. They could envision places where the rules were different. They could dream. They could envision. They could plan. They could then make things real.
The initial vision and the resultant reality did often differ. This was the true beauty of adaptation. The craft this human traveled in was far different than its predecessors. A clear path of iterations could not be calculated from its construction. The original idea had worked but had some limitations. Rather than accept those limitations, members of his species, had reconsidered the original idea. They did this without dismissing the knowledge of their peers. In some cases, conventions and traditions had gotten in their way. However, experiences had always yielded results and it was only the interpretation of those results that need be considered suspect.
His species was relatively young when he was born. The species was an odd predator. It's untold strength appeared in subtle forms in related species. The ability to use tools. The ability to throw objects. Social instincts. When combined they had led to a relatively successful group of species that were not viable prey to other species. Bipedal movement, the opposable thumb, and larger skulls were the last components. The effect of these was monumental. A species able to repel predators became a predator. A species wielded a weapon. The previous adaptation cycle of generational selection for traits was overcome in a moment. A concept was made real. An idea was put into practice. Something that had never been tried before worked. A question was asked. Within a few thousand years, a single species had changed the pace of adaptation.
He now sat thinking of some of its pitfalls. It had let itself go astray several times. It had failed to grasp its own power. It had let itself imagine that adaptation would stop. But thought cannot be limited. The power that each member of his species possessed offered infinite possibilities. His fellows may not wish to wield that power, they could even ignore it, but it existed regardless. A thought. A dream. The next step.
Yes, somewhere in the universe a collection of creatures went to work. A collection of projects, plans, and ideas allowed for another set of projects, plans, and ideas. As of this moment, this is where one of these creatures sits.... writing... pushing on a series of buttons to form symbols the other creatures recognize. These buttons are part of a communication device. His body sits some distance above the planet he calls home. He is traveling at a relative velocity many times greater than his physical form is capable.
As he does this, a thought remains held by his consciousness. The thought that the amazement should be shared. The thought that while great members of his species made this moment possible, they brought millions of others with them. Whether they understood it or not, they set the stage to move forward. The elite are not of a single stock or bloodline or group. Those that do not wonder can be the progenitors of those that do. His species ability to adapt had made them what they were. The acceptance of those around him would allow them to take the next step. The things now thought impossible would become reality. The things he now considered a waste of the power they had been given would in some cases lead to greater powers.
He felt now and had always felt that there was no limit to the power his species could wield. He had looked through their histories. Again and again he had found instances where they thought things impossible. Instances where many had thought that things could not be done only to be proven wrong by a few. His species had physical limitations, however, by some great gift or accident they had been released from them. They had been able to leave the physical world. They could envision places where the rules were different. They could dream. They could envision. They could plan. They could then make things real.
The initial vision and the resultant reality did often differ. This was the true beauty of adaptation. The craft this human traveled in was far different than its predecessors. A clear path of iterations could not be calculated from its construction. The original idea had worked but had some limitations. Rather than accept those limitations, members of his species, had reconsidered the original idea. They did this without dismissing the knowledge of their peers. In some cases, conventions and traditions had gotten in their way. However, experiences had always yielded results and it was only the interpretation of those results that need be considered suspect.
His species was relatively young when he was born. The species was an odd predator. It's untold strength appeared in subtle forms in related species. The ability to use tools. The ability to throw objects. Social instincts. When combined they had led to a relatively successful group of species that were not viable prey to other species. Bipedal movement, the opposable thumb, and larger skulls were the last components. The effect of these was monumental. A species able to repel predators became a predator. A species wielded a weapon. The previous adaptation cycle of generational selection for traits was overcome in a moment. A concept was made real. An idea was put into practice. Something that had never been tried before worked. A question was asked. Within a few thousand years, a single species had changed the pace of adaptation.
He now sat thinking of some of its pitfalls. It had let itself go astray several times. It had failed to grasp its own power. It had let itself imagine that adaptation would stop. But thought cannot be limited. The power that each member of his species possessed offered infinite possibilities. His fellows may not wish to wield that power, they could even ignore it, but it existed regardless. A thought. A dream. The next step.
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