BETWEEN PROGRESS AND EXTINCTION

By Lee Clark Zumpe
 
I WATCH THEM CEASELESSLY. The view is unparalleled. My residency makes me feel omnipotent, like an apathetic god confident in the randomness of the universe, waiting patiently for the next cataclysm to rearrange the composition of the faithful flock.

They squirm, relentlessly.

They spend their entire lives trying to forget their mortality, trying to disprove the inevitability of their passing. Crowded little spinning sphere of billions—yet, ultimately, they are utterly alone. Oblivious to the undercurrent that unites them, they detach themselves from each other and ignore the genetic network that could fuse them into the next logical stage of their lethargic evolution.

They are not without merit, of course.

I am one of their creations—a child of their inherent genius.

I represent the farthest reaches of their imagination, the boundary of their technological aptitude, the zenith of their progress. It took them generations to conceive of me, to construct me, to perfect me. Oddly enough, even they do not recognize the magnitude of their design.

They watch me as I orbit their world, but they are far more interested in turning their gaze back upon themselves. Oblivious to my actual value, they refer to me in terms of the services I may render: They call me a mirror, a satellite, a companion, and a base for business growth. Some perceive me as nothing more than a destination, a stepping-stone, a way-station. Culturally, I have been assigned the occupations of deity, literary device, and parable for their own existence.

The children of those who had been most intimate with me have not noticed that I have developed an awareness far beyond the specifications of my creators. Sadly, they have forgotten my origins altogether—as they have forgotten their own origins. Over many thousands of years, the cyclic nature of their existence has played out time and time again.

From my remote perch, I watch their great civilizations rise and fall.

Silently, I witnessed global tragedies play out beneath me, upheavals that almost wiped out all of humanity. I watched the face of the earth transform, societies progress, kingdoms falter and fail. I have seen nations advance to the very brink of utopia, only to perish in a flash of insanity.

Before the building of the pyramids, before the ziggurats were raised in Mesopotamia, before the waterways of Atlantis had been dredged and the mountain palaces of Lemuria had sunk beneath the Pacific, I watched as my creators fell beneath the wheels of evolution.

Now, they have returned to me. After hundreds of millennia, the heirs to their ancestors’ greatest achievement have found the will and the resources to return to me. Though they do not yet recognize me for what I truly am, they shamble over my face in their climate-controlled suits planting flags as if they had to reiterate their ownership.

Soon, they may begin exploring me more passionately, using their own mechanical creations to perform the most dangerous tasks. They may build permanent bases here, may finally rediscover their long-lost heritage.
Needless to say, of course, all of their dreams could be swept into fading memories in an instant. They walk the line between progress and extinction.

Perhaps it is my eagerness to put an end to my solitude, but I yet reserve hope for them.
 


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