Dreaming of fish-children on distant moons

The Huygens probe landed on Titan, where it was met by the crystalline ice-beings, who,… The Huygens probe landed on Titan, where it was met by the crystalline ice-beings, who, thinking it was a god, brought it through the forests of living glass, past the plains where the giant helium-fish swim through the sky; up the winding stairs to Ixilazt, the City Atop the Cloud, for their gargantuan queen to devour — as indeed, all gods must be devoured.

Except, not this time. The methane sea is there, says Huygens probe, but the ice-giant crystalline crabs who spin their frozen webs into a city by the sea — ah, they were not to be found. The Iron Light of Science has hammered amorphous Titan into solid reality.

Of course, it is not the only planet to share this fate. And, of course, mine are not the first cosmic imaginings to be shattered to pieces.

My hero, horror writer H.P. Lovecraft, envisioned a mad universe ruled over by insane alien gods profoundly indifferent or hostile toward humanity. He prided himself on his ability to take known science and extrapolate logically outward into cosmic horror.

But Lovecraft was writing in the early half of the 20th century, and to appreciate him now requires a great suspension of disbelief. There are no strange celestial crab-things on Pluto, and archaeologists in the Australian desert have found no traces of the ruined cities of the Great Race of Yith. Lovecraft’s dreams, like mine, have been torn asunder.

I wouldn’t dream of suggesting that we halt all space exploration so that children like me may have strangely lit daydreams and grow up to be science fiction writers. That would be silly: Everyone who has thought about it knows that if this rotten civilization is to survive, it must either expand into space or cease to base its economy on continual growth.

Space exploration will continue, and more and more secret corners of the universe will lose their mystery along with their power to intrigue and fascinate. Do all our beautiful nightmares begin at last to die?

Or does a new terror begin to take hold? Would we be confronted with the terror of a universe too dumb to be insane, too blind to be indifferent, too utterly banal to be ruled by mad gods? Or perhaps — the dreadful Thing at the back of my mind is speaking — perhaps the mad gods are not dead at all.

As everyone but me apparently knows — and yet, they are still capable of sleeping at night — our economy is based upon continual expansion and growth. This cannot continue forever on a finite planet.

But Stephen Hawking and other members of our most advanced scientific communities have suggested a way for it to continue expanding forever: by replacing biological life with robotic life that can leave this planet and is able to survive the needed length of time for the journey through space. It could then travel to other worlds, building an infrastructure upon them that can expand to still further worlds, until the entire physical universe is covered with this insane, self-justifying culture.

Advances in biotechnology, nanotechnology and robotics are already beginning to foreshadow this. I can already be given a mechanical hip. How soon before all my body parts are replaced as the flesh begins to weaken — perhaps rebuilt into a more stable mechanical form?

And most of us are already digitally connected, through the Internet, cell phones and laptops. How long before I need to rely on only one Internet-telephone link, implanted in my already mostly electronic body, connecting me mentally to the other cells in the new digital hive-mind. “How convenient!” I will cry, and I will demand, “Implant me today!”

But surely this technology can also be used by the Central Governing Computer to override my own consciousness will and transform me into a drone-slave to serve whatever economic or law-enforcement purpose is needed. I will agree to this readily, if I’m told it will protect my children from crime and drugs and terrorists.

The universe is young, say the scientists. Perhaps the mad gods are not dead — but rather, in their infancy. How soon before they begin their unending nightmare campaign to remake all worlds in their terrifying image, expanding forever outward from their ancient mythical home world, an evil place cloaked in frightened whispers and shadowy legends out of the distant past — a place called Earth?

Other cells may contact the Steve-Thomas unit at tokath55@yahoo.com.