Science fiction stories, whether portrayed in movies or books, often feature the idea of what humankind would do if it encountered another intelligent species in the universe. Would our collective consciousness be able to handle the social consequences of realizing that we are not alone? Would the other species be friendly or hostile? Would the other species see us as friendly or hostile (or even intelligent)? Would we be able to establish communication with beings from other star systems, or would we simply have to content ourselves with the knowledge that someone else is out there?
These are interesting questions, and they often make for good stories. But sometimes I wonder what humankind would do if, after developing interstellar travel, we encountered another planet with other carbon-based life forms and discovered that none of them met our criteria for being an intelligent species. If we found a planet like Earth, with its own versions of the African savannas, the South American rain forests, the Middle Eastern deserts, and the North American plains, and if we discovered that those environments each had their own proliferation of plants and animals that vaguely resembled organisms on Earth (as statistically improbable as this scenario might be), how would we react?
I think, if we found unintelligent life on another planet, we would try to eat it.
It makes sense. A team of astronauts—with or without civilians—would have been traveling through the void of space for a long time, subsisting on freeze-dried food, concentrated drinks, and possibly some scrawny vegetables grown in cramped hydroponics gardens. They would likely not be carrying more food than they would need for the journey, leaving more room for the necessary fuel and air. Not only would these people be craving some variety in their diets, they would be a little on the hungry side, and I’m sure the newly-discovered flora and fauna would have some culinary appeal.
I’m not saying we’d promptly wipe out entire species and gorge ourselves in their remains. I’m just saying that scientific conquest would not put up much of a fight when challenged by a hungry extraterrestrial colonist who has come face-to-face with a potential meal. I think we’d do a superficial examination of the plants or animals we first met, determine that they were neither intelligent nor dangerous, and cook them up.
My idea isn’t all that far-fetched. Look at some science fiction stories in which advanced alien races visit Earth. In these fictional representations, isn’t that exactly what some of them try to do us?
09 February 2011
16 January 2011
Acidity
I like pineapple. I like the shape, the color, and the taste. I also like the idea that it can be used in so many different types of foods. I’ve had pineapple plain (fresh and canned), in fruit salads, in ice creams and sherbets, in cakes, on salads, on sandwiches and burgers, mixed with various meats and vegetables in toppings for rice, as a pizza topping, and as a beverage. It doesn’t play well with Jell-O, but I can live with that.
However, it is remarkably acidic. After eating enough of it fresh, I’ve found that my lips feel raw and that the roof of my mouth has a burning sensation for some time. Today, I cut a fresh pineapple, and I was reminded that even a tiny amount of pineapple juice on a negligible cut in the skin (barely more than a paper cut) causes disproportionate amounts of pain. I learned that a long time ago while working for a pizza parlor, but I guess I somehow forgot over the years.
It also appears that a while fungus can grow in crevices on the outside of the fruit without affecting the edible parts inside.
I’ve just got to find an easier way to cut a fresh pineapple.
And I wonder if anybody’s ever tried to make a pineapple pie…
However, it is remarkably acidic. After eating enough of it fresh, I’ve found that my lips feel raw and that the roof of my mouth has a burning sensation for some time. Today, I cut a fresh pineapple, and I was reminded that even a tiny amount of pineapple juice on a negligible cut in the skin (barely more than a paper cut) causes disproportionate amounts of pain. I learned that a long time ago while working for a pizza parlor, but I guess I somehow forgot over the years.
It also appears that a while fungus can grow in crevices on the outside of the fruit without affecting the edible parts inside.
I’ve just got to find an easier way to cut a fresh pineapple.
And I wonder if anybody’s ever tried to make a pineapple pie…
08 January 2011
Telecommunications
I was at the library today. I found myself in the children’s books section, which is an impressive little corner of the library full of picture books and simple story books and even board books for babies. A variety of toys mingle with the bookshelves, many of them more elaborate versions of what one might find in a pediatrician’s office. There’s even a rack of puppets which are also available for check-out.
Two booth-style phones have been set up at separate ends of a long bookshelf. They’re low enough for kids to reach them and play with them, and they look real. It appears that they are connected to each other somehow so that kids can use them to talk to each other, but I’m fairly sure there’s no connection to outside phone lines. Most of the time, I just see one kid pick up one phone, tell another kid to go pick up the other phone, say “Hello” into the receiver, laugh, and move on to something else. The kid I noticed today had a more… elaborate conversation.
If I had to guess his age—which is something I seldom do accurately—I would put him at about four years old, give or take. He had picked up one of the phones and was holding it to his ear while looking around. He mumbled something into the mouthpiece. He looked around the room suspiciously again. Then he emphatically said into the phone, “No! No, no, no! I said no!” He cast one more suspicious glance around the room before slightly raising his volume, intensifying his tone, and swearing into the phone. His mini-tirade, which consisted of a long train of “F-bombs” interspersed with “shut up” and “no,” lasted about a minute. Then he calmly said, “Later,” and casually returned the receiver to its hanger before picking up a book and wandering off toward another section of the library.
Naturally, I had to wonder about this scene.
Was the kid angry about something? Was he venting his frustrations into the phone? Did he feel better afterward, as if he had conducted a little self-therapy?
Moreover, how did he get that vocabulary?
While I could easily be wrong on this one, I have a hypothesis. I think he has heard one of his parents speak in that manner on the phone, using those words and tones. I think he has witnessed such phone conversations regularly and has come to believe that they are common and normal. Without understanding what he was really saying, I think he used this toy phone to play out what he has seen so often and thinks of it as nothing more than mimicry.
At least, I hope it’s something like that. I do not like the idea of a four-year-old using such language to express his anger because that’s how he really feels.
Two booth-style phones have been set up at separate ends of a long bookshelf. They’re low enough for kids to reach them and play with them, and they look real. It appears that they are connected to each other somehow so that kids can use them to talk to each other, but I’m fairly sure there’s no connection to outside phone lines. Most of the time, I just see one kid pick up one phone, tell another kid to go pick up the other phone, say “Hello” into the receiver, laugh, and move on to something else. The kid I noticed today had a more… elaborate conversation.
If I had to guess his age—which is something I seldom do accurately—I would put him at about four years old, give or take. He had picked up one of the phones and was holding it to his ear while looking around. He mumbled something into the mouthpiece. He looked around the room suspiciously again. Then he emphatically said into the phone, “No! No, no, no! I said no!” He cast one more suspicious glance around the room before slightly raising his volume, intensifying his tone, and swearing into the phone. His mini-tirade, which consisted of a long train of “F-bombs” interspersed with “shut up” and “no,” lasted about a minute. Then he calmly said, “Later,” and casually returned the receiver to its hanger before picking up a book and wandering off toward another section of the library.
Naturally, I had to wonder about this scene.
Was the kid angry about something? Was he venting his frustrations into the phone? Did he feel better afterward, as if he had conducted a little self-therapy?
Moreover, how did he get that vocabulary?
While I could easily be wrong on this one, I have a hypothesis. I think he has heard one of his parents speak in that manner on the phone, using those words and tones. I think he has witnessed such phone conversations regularly and has come to believe that they are common and normal. Without understanding what he was really saying, I think he used this toy phone to play out what he has seen so often and thinks of it as nothing more than mimicry.
At least, I hope it’s something like that. I do not like the idea of a four-year-old using such language to express his anger because that’s how he really feels.
06 January 2011
Primacy
I’m a geek. I know it, and I’m not afraid to admit it. Sometimes, though, I surprise myself with my geekiness.
I was part of a conversation in which somebody brought up Egyptian hieroglyphics. I started making a comment that required me to come up with an example of hieroglyphics that could conceivably be used in a modern setting. I was not quite able to stop the thought before speaking it, and I said, “Well, it’s not like you’re going to try to recreate the whole Stargate codex.”
Yeah, the first example of Egyptian writing I think of comes from a science fiction movie.
Now the question that arises is: Do I have an overly strong interest in science fiction (which I think is likely), or does the entertainment media have a more powerful influence on my thought processes than world history?
I was part of a conversation in which somebody brought up Egyptian hieroglyphics. I started making a comment that required me to come up with an example of hieroglyphics that could conceivably be used in a modern setting. I was not quite able to stop the thought before speaking it, and I said, “Well, it’s not like you’re going to try to recreate the whole Stargate codex.”
Yeah, the first example of Egyptian writing I think of comes from a science fiction movie.
Now the question that arises is: Do I have an overly strong interest in science fiction (which I think is likely), or does the entertainment media have a more powerful influence on my thought processes than world history?
01 January 2011
Red
I have 20/20 vision. I don’t see many pictures in which my eyes glow red.
My wife is visually impaired. Her eyes are affected by a condition called retinitis pigmentosa which involves the gradual death of some of the eyes’ photoreceptors. I often have to edit photos of her to remove the red glow from her pupils.
Is it possible that the flash from a camera could serve as an indicator of visual problems?
The red glowing eyes in photographs are caused by a close flash in low-light conditions when the subjects pupils are dilated (to capture enough light to see clearly) and do not have enough time to contract in response to the bright flash, allowing the light to reflect off the blood sources behind the retina.
While I have only a minimal understanding of ocular biology and structure, I consider it a possibility that the more frequent red eye effect I see in pictures of my wife might be due to her visual impairments. If the photoreceptors are dying and not being replaced as a result of her condition, then the retina might be thinner, thus allowing more of the light from the flash to pass through it than my normal retina would allow. Or it could simply be that her pupils are regularly more dilated than mine because her eyes require more light to function properly anyway.
I see the same frequent red eye effect in pictures of my young son, but articles I’ve read seem to indicate that children’s eyes are generally more likely to cause the phenomenon than adults’ eyes, so my idea of using a camera flash as a kind of rudimentary diagnostic aid clearly would not work in all circumstances.
My wife is visually impaired. Her eyes are affected by a condition called retinitis pigmentosa which involves the gradual death of some of the eyes’ photoreceptors. I often have to edit photos of her to remove the red glow from her pupils.
Is it possible that the flash from a camera could serve as an indicator of visual problems?
The red glowing eyes in photographs are caused by a close flash in low-light conditions when the subjects pupils are dilated (to capture enough light to see clearly) and do not have enough time to contract in response to the bright flash, allowing the light to reflect off the blood sources behind the retina.
While I have only a minimal understanding of ocular biology and structure, I consider it a possibility that the more frequent red eye effect I see in pictures of my wife might be due to her visual impairments. If the photoreceptors are dying and not being replaced as a result of her condition, then the retina might be thinner, thus allowing more of the light from the flash to pass through it than my normal retina would allow. Or it could simply be that her pupils are regularly more dilated than mine because her eyes require more light to function properly anyway.
I see the same frequent red eye effect in pictures of my young son, but articles I’ve read seem to indicate that children’s eyes are generally more likely to cause the phenomenon than adults’ eyes, so my idea of using a camera flash as a kind of rudimentary diagnostic aid clearly would not work in all circumstances.
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