Forest Necropolis

I must see new things and investigate them. I want to taste dark water and see crackling trees and wild winds. A man falling into dark waters seeks a momentary footing even on sliding stones. It will rain all this night and we will sleep transfixed by the dark water as our blood runs through our fragile life.

Woe to the ones who think they know the answers, they will cease to ask the questions that may be their own salvation. We possess the knowledge of the Universe from conception, once born we are taught to forget.

The universe is a dark forest. Every civilization is an armed hunter stalking through the trees like a ghost, gently pushing aside branches that block the path and trying to tread without sound. Even breathing is done with care. The hunter has to be careful, because everywhere in the forest are stealthy hunters like him. If he finds other life—another hunter, an angel or a demon, a delicate infant or a tottering old man, a fairy or a demigod—there’s only one thing he can do: open fire and eliminate them. In this forest, hell is other people. An eternal threat that any life that exposes its own existence will be swiftly wiped out. This is the picture of cosmic civilization. It’s the explanation for the Fermi Paradox.