We Are Alone... [Carl Sagan and I.I. Shklovskii's] book [Intelligent Life in the Universe], as most readers know, estimates a handful of parameters necessary to intelligent life, such as the probability that an advanced technical civilization will in short order destroy itself and the number of "sol-like" stars in the galaxy. Their conclusion is that there are between 10,000 and two million advanced technical civilizations hereabouts. ... And this made the universe a less chilly place as well. What consolation! That homo sapiens might really partake of something larger, that there really might be numerous civilizations out there populated by more intelligent beings than we are, wiser because they had outlived the dangers of premature self-destruction.
... SETI (the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence) and its forerunners are almost forty years old. They scan the heavens for intelligent radio signals, with three million participants using their home computers to analyze the input. The result has been zilch.
... I now take the null hypothesis very seriously: that Sagan and Shklovskii were wrong: that the number of advanced technical civilizations in our galaxy is exactly one, that the number of advanced technical civilizations in the universe is exactly one.What is the implication of the possibility, mounting a bit every day, that we are alone in the universe? It reverses the millennial progression from a geocentric to a heliocentric to a Milky Way centered universe, back to, of all things, a geocentric universe. We are the solitary point of light in a darkness without end. It means that we are precious, infinitely so. It means that nuclear or environmental cataclysm is an infinitely worse fate than we thought.
It means that we have a job to do, a mission that will last all our ages to come: to seed and then to shepherd intelligent life beyond this pale blue dot.
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We Are Alone
We Are Alone. There was a time when the universe contained endless hope, endless possibility; a time when we looked at every star and imagined a new intelligence, a different form of life coming from it to meet us. The Confederated Tribes of the Milky Way Galaxy sent probe after probe towards the twinkling future, scanned swath after swath of night sky, and all was met with silence. No response, no twittering on the other end of the line. We now know – we now believe – that we are indeed alone in this universe, that we have only each other, only the 200 intelligent species that evolved in the specialized radiation of the Milky Way Galaxy.
We are the solitary point of light in a darkness without end. It means that we are precious, infinitely so. It means that collapse of the galaxy is an infinitely worse fate than we thought.
It means that we have a job to do, a mission that will last all our ages to come...
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We Are Alone. There was a time when the world contained endless hope, endless possibility; a time when we looked over every hill and imagined a new perspective, a different kind of people coming over to meet us. The Town of Newton sent pigeon after pigeon into the sunset, scanned horizon after horizon, and all was met with silence. No response, no flags waving from afar. We now know – we now believe – that we are indeed alone in this land, that we have only each other, only the 200 inhabitants that have lived in Newton.
We are the solitary point of light in a darkness without end. It means that we are precious, infinitely so. It means that the destruction of the town, by man's hand or by God's, is an infinitely worse fate than we thought.
It means that we have a job to do, a mission that will last all our ages to come...
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I Am Alone. There was a time when the world contained endless hope, endless possibility; a time when I looked around every corner and imagined a new voice, a different person coming to meet me. I called out again and again, but was met with silence. No response, no open arms. I now know – I now believe – that I am indeed alone in this world, that I have only myself, only me, only this same person that I have been and will be.
I am the solitary point of light in a darkness without end. It means that I am precious, infinitely so. But is death any worse now than I thought?
And what, exactly, is my job?
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In memory of Arthur C. Clarke, who died today at the age of 90.
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