Human life is a staggeringly strange thing. On the
surface of a ball of rock falling around a nuclear
fireball in the blackness of a vacuum the laws of nature
conspired to create a naked ape that can look up at the
stars and wonder where it came from. What is a human
being? Objectively, nothing of consequence. Particles of
dust in an infinite arena, present for an instant in
eternity. Clumps of atoms in a universe with more
galaxies than people. And yet a human being is necessary
for the question itself to exist, and the presence of a
question in the universe - any question - is the most
wonderful thing. Questions require minds, and minds
bring meaning. What is meaning? I don't know, except
that the universe and every pointless speck inside it
means something to me. I am astonished by the existence
of a single atom, and find my civilisation to be an
outrageous imprint on reality. I don't understand it.
Nobody does, but it makes me smile. This book asks
questions about our origins, our destiny, and our place
in the universe. We have no right to expect answers; we
have no right to even ask. But ask and wonder we do.
Human Universe is first and foremost a love letter to
humanity; a celebration of our outrageous fortune in
existing at all. I have chosen to write my letter in the
language of science, because there is no better
demonstration of our magnificent ascent from dust to
paragon of animals than the exponentiation of knowledge
generated by science. Two million years ago we were
apemen. Now we are spacemen. That has happened, as far
as we know, nowhere else. That is worth
celebrating. |
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