Two old astrobiologists talk in an abandoned observatory. Gladys, an optimist, talks to Mark.
Gladys: Well, Mark, it’s time to acknowledge that in spite of our experiments and observations, we haven’t found that alien life we’ve spent our careers looking for.
Mark: I was sure we would find it on Mars. But I’m not done looking. Can’t wait to explore Europa, especially with the AI driven drones we’re sure to launch. But, Gladys, I’m surprised at you, an optimist, saying something negative. Surely, you don’t want to give up the search. With two trillion galaxies out there, we’ve just started to explore.
Gladys: Giving up the search hasn’t made me a pessimist. It has made me more optimistic about my own life. I have gained a new respect for what I… what we are. It’s been centuries since Copernicus said we don’t have a special position in the universe, Galileo and Kepler proved it, and Bruno said there are other worlds. In all those centuries we have looked and looked, waited and waited for some intelligent life beyond Earth. And you know what, Mark?
Mark: No. What?
Gladys: We’ve come back to a pre-Copernican Cosmos, where we are, in fact, special, because we have no evidence that another kind of conscious being exists, and I don’t care how many galaxies there are, how many nebulae have organic molecules, or how many carbonaceous chondrites land on Earth, demonstrating the presence of carbon in space. Yeah, there might be the stuff of life out there, but not, as far as we know…and we’ve searched pretty far…
Mark: But the presence of water is one key substance we’ve looked for, and we know that Europa has some. Mars has some, also.
Gladys: Mark, Mark, Mark. Let’s say you find a microbe. Then what? Conscious microbe?Intelligent microbe? Communicative microbe? We would still be alone as the only conscious form the universe possesses. So, isolated still? Yes, but that only enhances our special status as the universe aware of itself. We are, to go back to those pre-Renaissance times, the center. Not the physical center, of course because we think that in a pre-Big Bang singularity, everything was “the center.” Think, Mark, sure it’s possible that another part of that singularity acquired consciousness, self-consciousness, but we have little chance of finding it. We’re the center because we’re unique. I might still look for a distant microbe, but intelligent life? If it’s out there, as Fermi asked, where is it? Why haven’t we run into it? If it shows up, fine, but I’m not holding my breath. Instead, I’m relishing my role as the pinnacle of the universe, the unmatched pinnacle. And to go back to “Where is it?” I know that in a universe at least 13.8 billion years old, intelligent life could have arisen and gone out of existence before human ancestors looked up. So, the time element added to the distance element makes me think that all our recent looking has gone for naught.
Mark: So, your optimism derives from your isolation?
Gladys: Pretty much. I understand the reason for SETI enthusiasm, for the giant dish at the Green Bank Observatory in West Virginia and for other radio astronomy sites. We’ve learned much about the universe from all the expensive terrestrial and space telescopes, but not once have we said, with the exception of that brief “Wow!” signal, that there’s evidence of intelligence beyond Earth. And even that signal might have been just a natural phenomenon. Face it, Mark, you’re special because you are alone. This search for extraterrestrial life is essentially an endeavor of the idle affluent, of a civilization in which astronomers can look up because they don’t have to look down, that is, to look at the soil to see if the vegetables and grains have grown. Civilization includes people who see to the necessities. You and I build observatories because we don’t have to grow corn. Searching for extraterrestrials is the occupation of the coddled.
Mark: But finding that life will be a great discovery.
Gladys: Actually, I would say that discovering the methods for discovering life is greater. We use radio waves, X-rays, gamma rays, infrared rays, cosmic rays, and experiments with organic molecules, all unknown to our ancestors. We have new ways of expanding our awareness, new ways to observe and measure. The observations don’t justify the deductions, however.
Mark: What do you mean?
Gladys: I’ve relied on this joke before, but I’ll say it again because it once chosen as the “best” joke. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson went camping in a remote place, say the to the moors.
They set up their little camp, lighted the fire, then tired from the hiking, decided to go to sleep. In the middle of the night Holmes woke Watson, saying, “Watson, Watson, wake up. Look up and tell me what you observe and deduce.” Watson, knowing he was in the presence of the world’s greatest detective, a man known for his deductive abilities, said, “Holmes, I see stars, thousands of stars. I surmise that around some of those stars there are planets, and on some of those there is life. And further…” he said as he cleared his throat, “I surmise that some of that life possesses complex brains and that some of those brains have achieved consciousness. From this, I deduce that there is intelligent life elsewhere in the universe,” he finished pleased with his logic. To which Holmes, the great deducer said, “No, Watson, you idiot, someone stole our tent.”
Mark: Ha! Perfect joke, false premise followed by misdirection followed by an unexpected twist. Reminds me of the guy who became interested in astronomy, so he put in a skylight in his ceiling and bought a telescope. His neighbors upstairs weren’t pleased.
Gladys: But I had a point in telling the joke though I do like yours. We’ve been surmising on the basis of possibility. We astrobiologists, science fiction writers, film makers have all been Watsons. We have wanted to find meaning elsewhere. We wanted the universe to be like the world we know. But so far, evidence points to it’s being a universe of stuff, just unthinking stuff with the one exception. If we find microbes floating in the depths of Europa, or methanogens on Titan, it will only prove that primitive life exists elsewhere, but none of our deducing—saying, for example, that if Earth’s early unicellular life led to us, then it could lead to beings like us with time—none of that deducing is proof of life, and certainly not proof of intelligent life.
And you know, Mark, if our first communications, those radio waves sent out 105 years ago when KDKA Pittsburgh started broadcasting, would be 105 light years away. Assuming that intelligent life intercepts them anywhere along their path, derives meaning from them, say understanding a commercial for Mother’s Oats, then it would take any of those civilizations the equivalent number of years to respond. Would we be listening to the right frequency? Could we even know we heard any organized message if their return broadcast was at 1020 on our AM dials? Remember, also, that Earth and the Solar System have moved since those signals were broadcast. So, how do the aliens target Earth to ask, “What are Mother’s Oats?”
Mark: Nevertheless, your statements still make me wonder about your optimism. Sounds to me that you’re like Voltaire’s Pangloss in Candide. No matter what happened he said or implied, “This is the best of all possible worlds.” It was a parody of eighteenth century optimism because of all the tragedies Pangloss and Candide observe.
Gladys: No, I’m an optimist because I know that until proven incorrect by an alien encounter, that I’m special in having observable intelligence, in being self aware. The moon isn’t self aware. I’m retiring from astrobiology. It was fun while it lasted, but my optimism is rooted in realism. I ask with Fermi, “Where is it?” I can’t deduce there is intelligent life elsewhere and know I can prove my deduction. Yes, I’ll acknowledge that in so many years—a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand—someone will surprise everyone with a discovery of alien life, but I find meaning in the world around me. Unlike Watson, I know the tent is missing. That’s the commonsense deduction Watson should have made when he saw the night sky above him. My deduction is that we have reason to be optimistic because we have little choice in the matter. Life is here. Life here is significant because it its unique. That uniqueness is the root of my optimism and my self esteem. Want to study life in the Cosmos? Look in a mirror, Mark.
Gladys: Well, Mark, it’s time to acknowledge that in spite of our experiments and observations, we haven’t found that alien life we’ve spent our careers looking for.
Mark: I was sure we would find it on Mars. But I’m not done looking. Can’t wait to explore Europa, especially with the AI driven drones we’re sure to launch. But, Gladys, I’m surprised at you, an optimist, saying something negative. Surely, you don’t want to give up the search. With two trillion galaxies out there, we’ve just started to explore.
Gladys: Giving up the search hasn’t made me a pessimist. It has made me more optimistic about my own life. I have gained a new respect for what I… what we are. It’s been centuries since Copernicus said we don’t have a special position in the universe, Galileo and Kepler proved it, and Bruno said there are other worlds. In all those centuries we have looked and looked, waited and waited for some intelligent life beyond Earth. And you know what, Mark?
Mark: No. What?
Gladys: We’ve come back to a pre-Copernican Cosmos, where we are, in fact, special, because we have no evidence that another kind of conscious being exists, and I don’t care how many galaxies there are, how many nebulae have organic molecules, or how many carbonaceous chondrites land on Earth, demonstrating the presence of carbon in space. Yeah, there might be the stuff of life out there, but not, as far as we know…and we’ve searched pretty far…
Mark: But the presence of water is one key substance we’ve looked for, and we know that Europa has some. Mars has some, also.
Gladys: Mark, Mark, Mark. Let’s say you find a microbe. Then what? Conscious microbe?Intelligent microbe? Communicative microbe? We would still be alone as the only conscious form the universe possesses. So, isolated still? Yes, but that only enhances our special status as the universe aware of itself. We are, to go back to those pre-Renaissance times, the center. Not the physical center, of course because we think that in a pre-Big Bang singularity, everything was “the center.” Think, Mark, sure it’s possible that another part of that singularity acquired consciousness, self-consciousness, but we have little chance of finding it. We’re the center because we’re unique. I might still look for a distant microbe, but intelligent life? If it’s out there, as Fermi asked, where is it? Why haven’t we run into it? If it shows up, fine, but I’m not holding my breath. Instead, I’m relishing my role as the pinnacle of the universe, the unmatched pinnacle. And to go back to “Where is it?” I know that in a universe at least 13.8 billion years old, intelligent life could have arisen and gone out of existence before human ancestors looked up. So, the time element added to the distance element makes me think that all our recent looking has gone for naught.
Mark: So, your optimism derives from your isolation?
Gladys: Pretty much. I understand the reason for SETI enthusiasm, for the giant dish at the Green Bank Observatory in West Virginia and for other radio astronomy sites. We’ve learned much about the universe from all the expensive terrestrial and space telescopes, but not once have we said, with the exception of that brief “Wow!” signal, that there’s evidence of intelligence beyond Earth. And even that signal might have been just a natural phenomenon. Face it, Mark, you’re special because you are alone. This search for extraterrestrial life is essentially an endeavor of the idle affluent, of a civilization in which astronomers can look up because they don’t have to look down, that is, to look at the soil to see if the vegetables and grains have grown. Civilization includes people who see to the necessities. You and I build observatories because we don’t have to grow corn. Searching for extraterrestrials is the occupation of the coddled.
Mark: But finding that life will be a great discovery.
Gladys: Actually, I would say that discovering the methods for discovering life is greater. We use radio waves, X-rays, gamma rays, infrared rays, cosmic rays, and experiments with organic molecules, all unknown to our ancestors. We have new ways of expanding our awareness, new ways to observe and measure. The observations don’t justify the deductions, however.
Mark: What do you mean?
Gladys: I’ve relied on this joke before, but I’ll say it again because it once chosen as the “best” joke. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson went camping in a remote place, say the to the moors.
They set up their little camp, lighted the fire, then tired from the hiking, decided to go to sleep. In the middle of the night Holmes woke Watson, saying, “Watson, Watson, wake up. Look up and tell me what you observe and deduce.” Watson, knowing he was in the presence of the world’s greatest detective, a man known for his deductive abilities, said, “Holmes, I see stars, thousands of stars. I surmise that around some of those stars there are planets, and on some of those there is life. And further…” he said as he cleared his throat, “I surmise that some of that life possesses complex brains and that some of those brains have achieved consciousness. From this, I deduce that there is intelligent life elsewhere in the universe,” he finished pleased with his logic. To which Holmes, the great deducer said, “No, Watson, you idiot, someone stole our tent.”
Mark: Ha! Perfect joke, false premise followed by misdirection followed by an unexpected twist. Reminds me of the guy who became interested in astronomy, so he put in a skylight in his ceiling and bought a telescope. His neighbors upstairs weren’t pleased.
Gladys: But I had a point in telling the joke though I do like yours. We’ve been surmising on the basis of possibility. We astrobiologists, science fiction writers, film makers have all been Watsons. We have wanted to find meaning elsewhere. We wanted the universe to be like the world we know. But so far, evidence points to it’s being a universe of stuff, just unthinking stuff with the one exception. If we find microbes floating in the depths of Europa, or methanogens on Titan, it will only prove that primitive life exists elsewhere, but none of our deducing—saying, for example, that if Earth’s early unicellular life led to us, then it could lead to beings like us with time—none of that deducing is proof of life, and certainly not proof of intelligent life.
And you know, Mark, if our first communications, those radio waves sent out 105 years ago when KDKA Pittsburgh started broadcasting, would be 105 light years away. Assuming that intelligent life intercepts them anywhere along their path, derives meaning from them, say understanding a commercial for Mother’s Oats, then it would take any of those civilizations the equivalent number of years to respond. Would we be listening to the right frequency? Could we even know we heard any organized message if their return broadcast was at 1020 on our AM dials? Remember, also, that Earth and the Solar System have moved since those signals were broadcast. So, how do the aliens target Earth to ask, “What are Mother’s Oats?”
Mark: Nevertheless, your statements still make me wonder about your optimism. Sounds to me that you’re like Voltaire’s Pangloss in Candide. No matter what happened he said or implied, “This is the best of all possible worlds.” It was a parody of eighteenth century optimism because of all the tragedies Pangloss and Candide observe.
Gladys: No, I’m an optimist because I know that until proven incorrect by an alien encounter, that I’m special in having observable intelligence, in being self aware. The moon isn’t self aware. I’m retiring from astrobiology. It was fun while it lasted, but my optimism is rooted in realism. I ask with Fermi, “Where is it?” I can’t deduce there is intelligent life elsewhere and know I can prove my deduction. Yes, I’ll acknowledge that in so many years—a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand—someone will surprise everyone with a discovery of alien life, but I find meaning in the world around me. Unlike Watson, I know the tent is missing. That’s the commonsense deduction Watson should have made when he saw the night sky above him. My deduction is that we have reason to be optimistic because we have little choice in the matter. Life is here. Life here is significant because it its unique. That uniqueness is the root of my optimism and my self esteem. Want to study life in the Cosmos? Look in a mirror, Mark.
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