If we could breathe metal, we might want to visit KELT-9b, a recently discovered planet that is so hot its only atmospheric constituents are metals. The surface of that distant Jupiter-size planet is as hot as a sun, most likely because it orbits close to its Type-A superhot star. We live in a very diverse universe, but there are pervasive connections.
Although breathing colloidal silver might possibly be a cure, it might, as a heavy metal, pose unwanted ramifications— possibly among them skin with a bluish tint or neurological interference. I don’t know. But those connections interest me. Atomized metals on another world would inhibit our breathing—assuming we could withstand the vaporizing heat—yet, here on Earth there are people who claim a curative power in those colloids.
It’s a strange universe that isn’t so strange. It’s a universe in which we see what I might call curative dangers. And we see that in commercials for various medicines. Take “this” to cure “that,” but be aware of the numerous side effects, including, as you have probably heard, death. Yet, we’re willing to gamble when we feel desperate and in the instance of pneumonia breathe a metallic atmosphere of our own making.
Are most of our choices about curative dangers? That is, are we motivated in any choice by our willingness to take a chance that we won’t be the ones who suffer the unfortunate side effects? We obviously seem to be so motivated with respect to medicines. Does the principle apply to eating, borrowing against future earnings, going to a casino, playing dangerous sports, driving fast, or even developing interpersonal relationships? Certainly, there are many on whose tombstones we could inscribe “Died of Side Effects on a Personal Planet KELT-9b.”
I’m not advocating our breathing metal. I think all of us could use something more than anecdotes and guesswork when we make decisions involving side effects.