“We see that cost in our over fished seas, in the destruction of coral reefs, in fouled air and streams, in landfills and toxic dumping sites. We see it in the extinction of species—now fifty every single day—and finally, we see it in our abbreviated future.
“And yet, in spite of the degradation, and in spite of the fact that I know, in the end, I can do little to change either practice or its outcome, I maintain a very different vision of the future: Life in a billion years!”
“A billion years!” exclaims Crystal. “How can you possibly venture guesses as to our fate so far in the future?”
“Actually,” says the captain in reverent abstraction, “a billion years is not so distant when one considers true planetary history. It only seems unreachable because we are reliably accustomed to death, to our short and finite existence as individuals. However, when taken in context with evolutionary progress, a billion years is really not so long at all—only one fifth of our history to date, and one tenth of the planet’s total life expectancy before the sun begins to implode and reduces the solar system to a cinder.
“Some nights, when I am alone on
Calypso’s
bridge, and all around me is silent, the ocean and the horizon merge, and the universe presents itself in all its unfathomable depth and reflects itself upon the mirror of water—a medium now so familiar and so dear to me that it has become my essential home—I hear the wind moan, ever so lowly, and I ever so reluctantly come upon the phantoms manifest by my own concerns and my fears. At sea, I navigate with precision, but how can I chart a personal course in a world that seems on the verge of ecological disaster, within a civilization that persists in ignorance and negligence? I sense a great storm ahead, a social hurricane, yet time and again I find my bearings in the same stars by which I have always navigated, the same stars that sowed the seeds of life throughout the universe. A billion years? No, it is not so very long a time…”
Captain Cousteau turns in his seat and takes a piece of coral from a shelf on the wall and lays it upon the table for all to examine. He moves his hand reverently over the specimen as if it were a living thing, which of course it once was.
“The coral reefs we have filmed under the Red Sea teach us something about time’s majestic march,” he tells us. “They weep tears of sand, marking eons as they emerge, layer upon calcified layer, toward the surface of the sea. What do we find within these structures? The fossils of the ages, entombed there some two billion years ago, when the planet was half its current age, and man’s emergence was still two billion years in the future.
“All around us we see evolution’s historical record, and this documentation defines us as cosmic orphans. We have no memory of the exploding stars or the galactic collisions that accounted for our very existence. Yet we experience a profound connection with our fellow beings, both plant and animal, so surely we can employ the single resource of our humanity known to none other in the kingdom—the power of reason—to imagine our future, whether we measure that time in hours or in billions of years.”
“And what is
your
vision for mankind in a billion years, Captain Cousteau?” asks Kizmet Aurora.
“Whatever my vision might be, the reality of the future must depend on humankind’s reconstituted ingenuity—and I don’t mean his technical prowess, but rather his ability to re-imagine the world and to create the structures of that new world through his enhanced vision. I think your Indian friends in the desert might have something to say about that, because they envision a new order, a new world, a new reality that will emerge after this one has vanished. They believe—no, they understand—that they must move underground, just as Igloo Iceman knows he must build an Ark, and Crystal Marbella knows she must digitally record as many of the world’s great books as possible, and Artimis Quinn knows she must invent a new and highly adaptable species. Whatever the environment, and whatever the circumstances which threaten it, adaptation is the key to survival,
n’est pas
?
“And yet we know… And yet we
suspect
that we have already crossed a point of critical mass. So what can we do?
“We can define the problems, of course. But we must also focus upon positive solutions,” Captain Cousteau answers his own rhetorical question.
“And what might those be?” asks Crystal.
Cousteau settles back in his chair and touches each of his digits to its counterpart. His gaze is distant; indeed it spans not centuries but eons. His expression is one of relaxation, not abdication. “When I look into the not-so-distant future, the year 2050 perhaps, I see earth in the aftermath of a ruinous world war waged over remaining petroleum resources. I also see ecological devastation on a scale never imagined. The air is fouled, the water undrinkable, food is in short supply, radiation cloaks the globe, the seas are dead and the water is rising, entire coastlines have already disappeared, and nine out of every ten species is either extinct or in retreat. What remains of life on earth? Mostly vermin. And insects. Mutant plant life that is inedible. A peak population of ten billion has been reduced to a mere thirty million scattered and squalid souls, and humans cling to existence by the flimsiest of threads. Still, we have survived.
“The real question is not how but why,” says Igloo.
“Maybe the survivors are the descendants of those aboard your Ark. Or maybe they are the descendants of those who hid deep underground in caves for decades. Or maybe they are the children of those who fled the earth for colonies on the moon or on Mars. Who knows? But we as a species have survived. Not much of what we were technologically, or culturally, has survived, but as a biological race we continue in the
wake of the flood
.”
“Human survival seems unlikely,” observes Ego Ectoplasm through Tooltech (Johnny Winter Blues riff played on Les Paul Jr.) “But the Quinngen is another matter altogether…”
“We are imagining a best case scenario,” Captain Cousteau reminds us.
Knock yourself out, gestures Ego.
“A single precious asset remains: the knowledge and achievements of our culture in science, technology and the arts have been painstakingly recorded by those with foresight. The digital record was preserved in titanium vaults and buried beneath the earth’s surface. Huge mainframe computers, whereabouts unknown, continue to function, untended.
“In the aftermath of the ecological disaster, we abandon our former pursuits and band together as a human family. We dismiss the notions of nation-states, racism, imperialism and materialism. Instead, we focus upon reconstituting the biological ladder. Jacob’s ladder!”
“If not now, why in the future?” asks Kiz.
Cousteau shrugs. His optimism is strictly hypothetical. “Because we have seen the face of extinction,” he postulates.
“On an instinctual level, man will always fight for life. He will fight to the last breath to postpone death. But on a cultural level he cannot imagine extinction. Nor is he willing to take personal responsibility,” observes Crystal.
“Which is why a quantum leap must occur!” says the captain. “Only faced with his complete annihilation will mankind wake up.”
“Or maybe not even then,” says Simone.
“Cherie, we are postulating the positive now,” Cousteau reminds his wife.
“Jacques-Ives, you have always seen the world through the eyes of a child,” she says.
“And maybe that is the kind of vision we must cultivate,” he counters. “Children do not foul the air and the water. Children do not condemn antelopes and polar bears and zebras to extinction. Children have no need of money, or false power. Children see only the wonder of creation, and they revel in that wonder. They experience it with open eyes, and open hearts. They embrace creation, they do not destroy it.”
“In some ways,” I observe, “Virtual Life is full of children—or at least it’s full of idealists.”
“I think you are correct, Fizzy Oceans,” says Captain Cousteau.
“Correct or not,” says Igloo Iceman, “what does Virtual Life have to do with the survival of our species? Not to mention most others…”
“Isn’t it obvious?” asks Cousteau.
Igloo faces the captain with a look of consternation. “I can’t say I want that kind of responsibility,” he says.
“Then why build the Ark?”
“Self-preservation, I suppose,” says Iggy. “Or perhaps I’m playing some ludicrous game.”
“If self-preservation is your only purpose, then why build your Ark to accommodate others?”
“I guess I figure I’m going to need some company on such a long voyage…”
“Maybe so,” says Captain Cousteau. “Because yours is a voyage into the future—the future of our species.”
“And when the water finally recedes, and we make landfall on the new continent of Gondwana, we are to become primitive pioneers rebuilding what has been lost, only to repeat the deprivation all over again. What’s the point?” asks Igloo Iceman.
“Certainly now, as we face environmental collapse, the case for pessimism is a strong one,” Cousteau allows, “but that has not always been the case.”
“The human species is by nature a dirty bird,” observes Tooltech, the Quinngen (Ted Nugent feedback generated from Les Paul Jr.).
“Historically, yes,” confirms the captain. “The discovery of fossil fuel, and how to use it for energy, catapulted man into the role of planetary ruler. But as Albert Einstein pointed out, ‘The level of thinking that man has done thus far creates problems he cannot solve at the same level he created them…’ In short, man has not yet realized that his supremacy resides not in nature’s conquest, but in its protection. Such shortsighted thinking must change in FL. And through
your
documentation in Virtual Life, you can not only define the problems that have led to the PL catastrophe, but you can also make suggestions, or provide certain guidelines, for those who will come after us and ultimately establish Future Life.”
“So that is why we are here tonight,” I observe. “To save the world!”
“Or at least to chart a course,” says Captain Cousteau.
“Biological units are by nature inferior,” Ego Ectoplasm points out through Tooltech. “Tell the biological history if it makes you happy, or if it comforts you in some way, but the real effort should be on the design and construction of a more adaptable population. My suggestion is a digital race.”
“Ego, we are already building a digital population in Virtual Life,” Crystal reminds him. “You are only one of its manifestations, but it is important we allow for all sorts of variations.”
“Virtual Life is now largely a mirror image of Physical Life,” Captain Cousteau observes, “so it is wholly important for you as its purveyors to move beyond the known and the possible and into the unknown, and as yet only imagined, realm of creation. That is your supreme challenge!”
“
Monsiuer
, VL is so much more than a mirror,” I maintain. “It is a place where one’s dreams and visions can be accessed and ‘materialized’ almost instantly.”
“Which is why it is very important as we face the end of PL,” confirms Jacques-Ives.
“When is all this scheduled to come down?” Iggy asks.
“As we speak,” says Captain Cousteau somberly. “As we speak…”
As our new friend, the wise and intrepid (and tireless) explorer Jacques-Ives Cousteau meanders distantly across the vast expanses of universal (and multi-universal) time, we eight emulations satiate our VL bodies with the pseudo sensations of flavor and essence, sampling the lightest rendition of
mousse au chocolate
ever imagined or concocted in a digital format. We sip cognac, though we do not feel the warming spirits in our throats or stomachs. For ours is a virtual existence in a virtual world. Each of us knows sentient life in what remains of NL and PL, but we also understand that our future, if indeed we have one, is grounded in the virtual world, and that is where we must stake our claim to survival as a race. No doubt our friend, the visionary explorer, sees beyond what even we envision: magnetic fields shifting and ice ages coming and going; earth’s rotation slowing and exerting tremendous gravitational stress on the moon, eventually splitting it apart, asteroids raining down upon the earth as smaller particles from the destruction form rings (just like Saturn) around our blue world… Yet, in Cousteau’s generous vision, we have become gravity’s masters, modifying ocean tides and controlling climate. We come to understand anti-matter, and we harness the energy of ‘other’ universes. We successfully decipher the genome and learn to repair genetic flaws. We banish disease and death from our genetic programming, and through genetic engineering we begin to reconstitute evolution itself. That is the vision of Jacques-Ives Cousteau.
And whether his magnanimous foresight plays out in PL or in VL, we know we must certainly remain vigilant, because (as Simone points out) the same petty rivalries, the same tendency to oversight, the same ambition for position and power, the same propensity for greed exists in VL—just as it does in PL—and we know that mankind is prone to repeating history, illustrious or disastrous as it may be.
It is nearly midnight when Philippe, who has been manning the bridge, enters the captain’s quarters. He greets us all as he moves to a position beside his father, and then whispers a message in the captain’s ear. A moment later, he withdraws. Captain Cousteau addresses us in a serious yet confident tone.
“
Mes amis
, we have had a splendid meal and a fine discussion,
n’est pas
? But it seems that my presence is now required on the bridge, so I must call an end to our little gathering. Apparently, we are tracking a rather large storm—a Category 5 hurricane, in fact—but don’t worry, because it is still three hundred miles southeast of our position. Nevertheless, we must chart a course that will lead us, and
Calypso
, to a safe haven. Philippe informs me that there is no present danger, so you are welcome to remain onboard, if you like, or to transfer to another REP of your choice. By mid-morning, we will dock in the port of Miami—that’s VL Miami, of course—so if you prefer to remain onboard through the night, you can disembark there tomorrow. Whatever your decisions, I thank you from the bottom of my broken heart for meeting here tonight, and for your kind indulgence of my ideas and my suggestions. I bid you farewell,
mes frères et mes sœurs
!”