I’m reading a book about the history and future of genetics
I’ve made progress but not yet reached the central plates de rigueur
The kind of book a dilettante reads in order to be one
And the author has explained that most genes don’t do just one thing
but many, at different times in different combinations, cascades
genes manipulating proteins manipulating genes manipulating proteins
And since I know, dear reader, that you’ve studied my other work
it’s no surprise to you that this, to me, might be another proof of God
that I am explaining to my wife and she says
“Then you live in a snowglobe.”
Which reminded me of a short story by Philip K. Dick
and It’s probably not anything like this but here’s how I remember it:
The fifth grade project was to make a universe and the boy was real proud of his, it was beautiful and whimsical, the peoples peaceful and happy. He took it to school but it didn’t fit the political agenda – the teachers chastised and belittled him and the kids jeered. On the way home, the other boys and a girl made fun of him some more and made him cry and, all alone, he smashed his universe on the sidewalk.
And I wonder:
Would I do that?