This article is very different, genre-wise, from my previous article, “Gift or Curse of Parents? A Story of ‘Being.” Nevertheless, I decided to jot down what was on my mind lately. I’m not known to be a sci-fi thinker, let alone thinking about deep-space civilizations, but there’s just something about my philosophy on this topic that my mind will never wander away from. Many people have similar wonders as mine: if there’s life beyond Earth or life on other planets in space?
I have a simple answer to that. Even though it may not be true, it’s worth a try. I honestly believe that humans will never find life in space, and ultimately, they aren’t supposed to. I think that it’s worth a try, but what if it ends up being life-threatening? I believe that it would be safe to leave them alone. We have an entire planet to ourselves; let’s take advantage of it. Let’s treat it well and respectfully and salvage it until the very end. Like they say, ‘it’s always greener on the other side.’ But it actually might not be, at least not for humankind.
Even though I am curious what aliens are like, if we do happen to find them somehow and someway, I think that we wouldn’t even be able to see, hear, smell, feel or touch them. The reason is that all earthlings have five basic senses, and they are all accommodating. We also have requirements to stay alive: eat, drink, excrete waste, breathe, and sleep. We also need our blood to be pumping and many other things that will lead me to a whole new topic. So, before we take the wrong turn at this crossroads, let’s get to the point. I think aliens will have contrasting senses, needs, requirements, and abilities than the earth-born species. As I see it, we will not be able to detect each other whatsoever.
Many people are craving more information about these things. Despite scientists’ best efforts, we still cannot find a way to plow through the darkness of matter and reach what would be the most controversial and blood-boiling but at the same time the most world-changing and sacrificial discovery in history.
I recently read a story by James Patterson called “We. Are. Not. Alone.” It was about an ex-Harvard student named Robert Barnett receiving an encrypted radio-transmitted message from space. The only way to find out what it meant was to make the treacherous journey to a highly secretive ranch that on the outside looks abandoned, but on the inside is the most complex system of electronic super-devices that have the ability to execute almost every order you can think about. It ended up being the last warning message that aliens were giving to Earth. According to the little green people, they were doing this because Earth was disgracing and slowly destroying the universe.
The space-born creatures were about to launch a nuclear missile on The Blue Planet! There was only one way to stop it. Guess who came up with the idea: Rob, the nearly-PhD student from Harvard who had backs turned on him since he started his education. The plan was to beam billions of images of the innocent children that were about to have their lives cut short by the UFO visibly flying just below the Kármán Line so that they would begin to second-guess themselves and head home.
Thankfully, it worked, following a mad dash at smashing the keys on keyboards and image-uploading. Mr. Barnett became a hero to the world, and I guess you could say he was the most loved person on Earth.
I’m not saying that aliens are going to destroy our planet, but I am saying that it may not be pleasant interacting with them.
It Looks Like the Road Ends Here
To be honest with you now, I’m confused. I lost my train of thought, and I am, for some reason, no longer interested in alien discovery and space exploration. I have no idea why, but it might be because all the thoughts in my mind have been digitally shown in this article, so my mind is empty now.
The other day, I went on a walk with some family friends, Moxie Marahatta‘s family, and Moxie, the writer of “Being Quarantined of Blank Pages,” and we were talking about the ShiningPens platform and writing in general. One specific part of the conversation was about how writing can be infinitive and creative, but at the same time, if there’s a minimum or maximum and meeting the requirements seems like a far-off dream world, it gets frustrating.
That is what has happened to me right now. I’m empty-minded except for one corner of my brain: it’s thinking about how to get to the minimum of 700 words for an article to be published, now that I’m entirely uninterested in my own topic. Wait a minute. It turns out that right now, at the end of this sentence, I have 836 words, which is 136 ‘sentence segments’ above the bare minimum. And I’m sure you can relate to me, feeling proud of myself and relieved because I surpassed the boundaries.
I just came up with a new topic that I will discuss shortly: how writing depends on interest. If you don’t have passion and interest in the thing you are doing, you can’t do it as well, which is another one of the things that Moxie and I exchanged about on the hike. The work that people do for a living is fueled by a strong passion and interest for it, the most powerful things you can use to accelerate yourself to milestones and all the way through life itself.
Unfortunately, some people don’t like their job, and they end up resigning for good reasons like unequal or unrewarding pay, difficult labor, even social conflicts in the workplace. Most of them look for a new job that suits them better, and once they find one they like, they excel in the field of work mandatory for the occupation. Like the Chinese philosopher, Confucius once said, “Choose a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life.”
Now Here’s Where the Road Really Ends
I am going to leave this right here, on a good note that it isn’t about the unreachable depths in space but rather the unlimited possibilities of passion and initiative.
The writer is an 8th-grade student and lives in Newmarket, Canada.