Used to read this over and over:
If you were to travel through the Milky Way and head towards the Orion Arm, you would see the most wondrous sights.
You would be rewarded with the most dynamic views as you passed through the eerie void between splendid displays of stellar nurseries that feel like home for some reason you can’t decide. You would see stars old and new, hot and cool, dying ancients shedding their mass and newborns just big enough to peek through the obscuring screen of their parent cloud. Passing through spectacular nebulae would be such a treat for your eyes and you would hardly believe in such brilliant colors even though they were right in front of you.
Finally, you would reach the Orion Arm and at 80° galactic longitude you would find a serene system with the most elegant geometry. At the center, the simplest star. Yellow-white but significant, or is it? A closer look would reveal 8 inconspicuous planets and as you traversed their paths you would notice that each is unique from the next. At which point, you would spot the most unique of them all.
From a distance, the pale blue orb might seem inviting, but it would become more like stunning as you approached. It would begin to sparkle like a round cut jewel and the pale blue tint would be resolved into cerulean and stark white. Suddenly, it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve seen. You would see that it has a Moon, not many, just one. It’s a 1/4 of the planet’s size, which might tell you something about this pair’s history. Unlike the satellite, the planet hasn’t cooled. You would conclude that the planet has a molten core, plate tectonics, a magnetic field, an atmosphere. Conveniently, it lies in the habitable zone of its parent star. Suddenly, you would realize why it seemed so inviting from so far away. The incredulity of this realization would prompt you to descend to the surface at which point your intuitions would appear true.
There would be Life. Everywhere.
The white hues you saw from a distance you would now realize are atmospheric features, and the surface is no longer just blue, but a lush green as well. The blue is liquid and covers most of the planet but is sharply contrasted with green vegetation. And, oh, the innumerable species of vegetation you would see. Just as you started to wonder if that was the extent of life on this planet you would see the grayish holes in the plant life. Then, tall structures would emerge, made of harsh materials and surrounded by blackish pathways. Civilizations! You would think to yourself. They’re intelligent!
And out of sheer awe you would approach them, the dominant life forms of this miraculous planet, but your curiosity would not be returned as they would only look at you strangely before continuing with their previous activity. They would not share your eagerness or even willingness to exchange information, discuss technologies. They would not even stop to ask where you came from as they are involved, occupied. They never stop to ask why. If you stood for a while and watched, you would notice they never look up, they’ve never once pondered or even cared what’s outside their individual daily world. They don’t know what they’re missing, you would think to yourself. Most of them never even wonder why they’re here. Most of them have no idea that what you’ve just seen even exists. Most of them, you would realize, don’t even know the reality of their very existence. It’s a shame, you would think, and maybe it is. Perhaps it’s sad to think that they don’t even know that they can be a part of something universally bigger. That the small problems of this planet would seem so insignificant if they could just understand for a moment the scale of the Universe in which they live. You would find it sad because you’d know how much elegance and beauty there is to be found, both outside and within this self-involved world. I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe.
Upon your exploration of the planet, you would discover a plethora of life within the oceans of blue. If you went deep enough you would find species that don’t even draw their life from that archetypal star. Species that don’t even have eyes and have never experienced a glimmer of light, but have evolved to live off their surroundings at a depth of 3 miles under water. What’s more, you would discover there are so many of them that they outnumber the entire population on the surface of this planet by a factor of millions. You would wonder if the surface population even knows about these creatures, or if they live in complete ignorance through lack of exploration. You would probably doubt the previous evidence suggesting they were the dominant life form of this planet. What if, you would think to yourself, it really isn’t their planet at all?
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