Our Bodies Are The Time

Our Bodies Are The Time Machine.

Science Fiction Writers Put Characters Into A World With Arbitrary Rules And Work Out What Happens.

When I See An Old Movie, Like From The ’40s Or ’50s Or ’60s, The People Look So Calm. They Don’t Have Smartphones, They’re Not Looking At Computer Screens, They’re Taking Their Time. They’ll Sit In A Chair And Just Stare Off Into Space. I Think Some Day We’ll Find Our Way Back To That Garden Of Eden.

What Is The Shape Of Space? Is It Flat, Or Is It Bent? Is It Nicely Laid Out, Or Is It Warped And Shrunken? Is It Finite, Or Is It Infinite? Which Of The Following Does Space Resemble More: (a) A Sheet Of Paper, (b) An Endless Desert, (c) A Soap Bubble, (d) A Doughnut, (e) An Escher Drawing, (f) An Ice Cream Cone, (g) The Branches Of A Tree, Or (h) A Human Body?

I Think Dry Nanotechnology Is Probably A Dead-end.