Current mood:

amused

We are the fringes of infinity on the never ending fractal.
She-bang!

Quarks everywhere, then they place dice with eachother. If two dont get along, they repel. If they dont, they stick. A bunch stick, a bunch dont. The ones that dont keep rolling. The ones that stuck wait around for the next round. Finally all the quarks find themselves in happy little atoms. Imbalance strikes again. Not happy for long, fuckers. Lets play dice again. The ones that can play nice, make our first molecules. Some atoms are chill, and remain single. Balance? Who needs it. Molecules are picking fights with the neigbors. Those rouge atoms get sucked into the fray, tipping the battle into a draw. Sometimes into over-time. Slowly things settle down. But whats this! A constant barage of photons ~12/7? Like gunfire into blindfolded crowd, molecules get knocked off their feet from the chance confrontation with a photon torpedo. Some of those pacified molecules suck up some of those sweet rays and get even more of the silent-bob atoms. The constant photon assault keeps things cooking, so to speak, and long arms of atoms, all sitting pretty, form the stringy fractals of molecular complexity. The whole gig gets its fair share of rouge recruits too, apparently they like to hang out and mosh in nearby clubs titled 'minerals' and 'non-minerals.' So those fingers of the intricate keep getting fed and keep getting longer, if able of course. Now strings wrap around strings, held together by some helpful bricks from Amino Construction Inc. Skyscrapers, Do Not Apply. These get higher any chance they get. Now bridges built between the towers, made from a good deal more than just brick. Tower clusters joined by roads. Continents connected by boats and planes. Cell- er, planets form. Most dont last too long and disband into space, only to be collected later. One planet just isnt satisfied happens to keep getting bigger, pulling in more than it needs to be content. With the nightclubs of atoms and the photon torpedos from the abyss, it keeps growing. Too big in fact, it splits. Rinse and repeat. Soon this cellular gluttony keeps the whole lot of them moving. Depending on the neighborhood, different designs work better verses the imports. The cells find other cells, some related, some not. They form chains like the towers, interacting with other towers. Into cities, into worlds. Complex worlds. But those complex worlds dont head to kinkos to make a copy of themselves, they pull the same things the cells do. Assuming that there are doubles of each color candy in the bowl, two people can have their own bowls to be happy. But what if that bowl split and there werent any doubles, so each person had something different. Well, they do 50% of the time. But if they pool all the candy, they at least have a bowl with all the candy colors. They agree that neither should have it, because there isnt enough for both, so they leave it on the ground. Well, all the ingredients for the planet, animal, thing. But this creature knows nothing of those who survived to get it into existence, so only its survival is a tribute to the potency of the genes. Some of these organisms kept alive and working by showing the blueprints for one half, the other holding what those two halfs are going to need. Sometimes just putting it in a container with enough supplies works well, but the same problem with the tribute to potency thing. Some keep that, well, egg, for a good deal longer, as long as possible actually. When that sucker can breath on its own, its out. But it cant get what it needs for life. Now not only is the security in the genes existent, but mommy and daddy also give good advice. This would-be helpless beggining now has a hand to guide it. Strategies for these creatures get better, as well as a few of the lesser models. But none compare when youre being taught how to use tools to maintain survival. Tool users learn and make better tools. It just makes sense to make them when ya need them. Fast forward a few thousand years. Cavemen with computers and a whole lot of oral history. A good deal of them working tward making survival with our material and spiritual a whole lot easier. But, some of them arent. Who needs balance? We do.