“
“Good luck—and God protect.” I was sure that little reference to God was for the sake of the network cameras. Ching-Mei was an atheist. She only had faith in empirical data, in experimental results.
— Robert J. Sawyer
science fiction writer, screenwriter, writer
1960
“Good luck—and God protect.” I was sure that little reference to God was for the sake of the network cameras. Ching-Mei was an atheist. She only had faith in empirical data, in experimental results.
Adjectives modify nouns, adverbs modify verbs, advertisers modify the truth.
It turned out that big-bucks science had been a purely mid-twentieth-century phenomenon, starting with the Manhattan Project and ending with the fall of the Soviet Union.
“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”I shook my head. “Have you ever noticed how many once-in-a-lifetime opportunities come at the end of a person’s life? Count me out.”
Failing to act is a decision in and of itself.
Throwing some light on the subject had only made the mystery deeper.
Jag barked dismissively. “Philosophy,” he said. “Not science. They just want to believe that.”
“God,” he said under his breath.“All the gods,” replied Jag, softly, “are a very, very long way from here.”
You are spoiled by being a sociologist, Lansing. In the hard sciences, we occasionally have to face the reality that some of our theories will actually be disproven.
“But you get along with humans now, which is something my people are having trouble managing. How do you do it?”Jag was silent.
It had to begin somewhere—maturity, the stage after the midlife crisis, peace. It had to begin somewhere.
“Children play with toy soldiers,” said Keith, looking now at Jag. “Child races play with real ones. Maybe it’s time all of us grew up a bit.”
There was a small crucifix above the door to his room; it had been there since he’d been a little boy. He stared up at the tiny Jesus—but there was no point in praying. The die was cast; what was done was done.
...but there, because there is no grace of God, go I.
He cursed himself for thinking anything this complex would end up not being a source of problems.
“‘Justice,’” he said, his breath coming out raggedly as he quoted another Nobel laureate—at that precise moment, he couldn’t remember which one—“‘is always delayed and finally done only by mistake.’”
He who foresees calamities suffers them twice over.
And Canadians didn’t like guns, either—they had no Second Amendment, or whatever damned thing it was that made Americans think they could go around armed.
Free will is an illusion. It is synonymous with incomplete perception.
You’re right to be skeptical—the world would be a better place if we were all a little less credulous.
There may be oodles of possible humans, but it is a finite number.
You humans seem to have a profound capacity for ignoring obvious evidence.
Not wanting to die was another universal constant, it seemed.
I did learn one valuable lesson, though.I learned that you can’t choose the ways in which you’ll be tested.
Learning to ignore things is one of the great paths to inner peace.
As one of my Jewish friends has been known to observe, the Jews who survived World War II were either now atheists or hadn’t been paying attention.
I do remember her favorite expression: the Lord works in mysterious ways.Perhaps so. But I found it hard to believe he would work in shoddy, haphazard ones.
I believe the creator may have a specific reason for wanting a universe that has life in it, and, indeed, as you say, for wanting multiple sentiences to emerge simultaneously. But it seems clear beyond dispute that the creator takes no interest in specific individuals.
I guess what it means is this: to be human is to be fragile. We are easily hurt, and not just physically. We are easily hurt emotionally, too. So, as you move through life, my son, try not to hurt others.
Sagan may not have believed in the God of the Bible, but he at least allowed the possibility of a creator.Or did he? Carl was no more obliged to believe what he wrote in his sole work of fiction than George Lucas was required to believe in the Force.
The Lord works in mysterious ways. Mrs. Lansbury had always said that. Everything happens for a purpose.Such bull. Such unmitigated crap. I felt my stomach knotting. Cancer didn’t happen for any purpose. It tore people apart; if a god did create life, then he’s a shoddy workman, churning out flawed, self-destructing products.
Still, you must know that the fear of death is irrational; death comes to everyone.
“And of me you ask which choice you should make?” said the translator’s voice.The Wreed wavered and vanished.
Must God be defined in a way that places him or her beyond the scope of science?Like this. A God I could understand, at least potentially, was infinitely more interesting and relevant than one that defied comprehension.
Our job is not to predict the future. Rather, it's to suggest all the possible futures - so that society can make informed decisions about where we want to go.
