I like to remember what my father taught me. That at one point or another, we were all new to this world.
We’ve managed to slip evolution’s leash now, haven’t we? We can cure any disease, keep even the weakest of us alive, and one fine day perhaps we shall even resurrect the dead, call forth Lazarus from his cave. Do you know what that means? It means that we’re done, that this is as good as we’re going to get.
We would bring the herd down off the mountain in the fall. Sometimes we would lose one along the way, and I’d worry over it. My father… My father would tell me that the steer would find its own way home. And, often as not, they did. Never occurred to me that we were bring them back for the slaughter.
Every piece of information in the world has been copied. Backed up. Except the human mind, the last analog device in a digital world.
Dreams mean everything. They’re the stories we tell ourselves of what could be, who we could become.