always have arrived well before either.
Flight need not have developed from that first dizzy soar by two brothers in hats to the touchdown on the moon in less than a century. People could have been bumbling about in bi-planes in the 1500s if they had so desired, and never considered the moon.
Equally, the Napoleonic wars could have been argued about on social media, had the need for internet telecommunication outweighed the need that dominated everything else in humanity’s final few millennia—to dominate and destroy everything in its path.
Social media. I cannot really explain this to you, and it is probably best for your sanity if I do not try.
With the right environment and minds clear of fear and desire, there would have been nothing to stop a collection of curious Neolithic sapiens from having telephones, packed lunches, and intercontinental air travel within a century.
Fear and desire. Curiosity and environment. These are the things that drove the path of technology.
‘There,’ Jorne finally stood, triumphant, from his fiddling. ‘Are you ready?’
We nodded from our chairs, and he tapped a screen on one of the boxes. There was a whirring and a square of light appeared on the fabric. You gasped.
‘Just wait,’ said Jorne from the shadows.
After a crackle a grainy, colourless image appeared of a network of streets and tall buildings from above. You gave another gasp, jumped from your chair and ran to the wall.
‘Look! Look!’
‘Now watch,’ said Jorne. He reached for one of the boxes and made a gesture on its screen. The image zoomed in fiercely, so that now it showed people moving about on one of the streets, crowds streaming past in distorted sepia.
You stood staring up at it, a portion of the image now playing out for me on the back of your head.
Jorne read from the screen beneath his fingers.
‘August 17th, 1979, Seattle.’
Hairs prickled upon the back of my neck. I leaned forward, catching his eye again and mouthing the words: ‘Quantum Telescope?’
He nodded, eyes bright.
— THIRTY-EIGHT —
IN ADDITION TO the supply of fresh food and water, safety, sanitation and luxurious dwellings, the last members of the human race were also entertained by a wonder that would leave them breathless. The Quantum Telescope was the erta’s final gift to the human race.
The technology was, of course, far beyond what they had achieved, so there are no words to describe the science of it.
There is that problem again—describing the science of things.
Space and time are like warped blankets. Light is like a wave at sea. Consciousness emerges or collects or is a field.
None of these things are true, and all of them are, and that paradox is neither the fault of science nor language. Those were the only things you had, and the only things with which you left us. Language, in fact, has always been just as bad at describing things outside of the realm of science as those within it. Love, for example, or the feeling one gets when standing alone before three horses at sunrise.
Words, however, when placed in a certain order, can open doors. That is why poetry exists.
And scientific description is no less a form of poetry than John Keats, or Emily Dickinson, or Bob Dylan.
I told you. Lots of things.
I shall try my best to describe the Quantum Telescope to you.
Light from the Earth is reflected into space, as it has been since the Earth was formed, and the further you are from Earth at any given time, the older that light becomes. If you are 250 light years away and you happen to be able to gather and analyse such photons, then you can see what was going on 250 years ago.
We happened to be able to do just that. With quantum drones—a mesh of subatomic telescopes springing up hundreds of light years away—the erta were able to show humans the history of their world; light from the planet as it had been millennia ago. Not only that, but by analysing this mesh concurrently, they were able to pinpoint light from exact times, dates, and angles and thus they would sit outside in warm gardens filled with music and light, watching Rome fall, the Battle of Trafalgar rage, Columbus’ feet touching sand, and the births and deaths of their numerous prophets. Their collective life, quite literally, flashed before their eyes.
The Quantum Telescope was dismantled shortly after Hanna, the last human, died. Jorne, it seemed, had attained some recordings.
I walked to his side as you gazed at the people on the