It is an alien world that is around us. Literally.
It's outside of our experience, if our own thoughts are the only measure of reality that we can have.
I watch a bee fly over the flowers on my patio. They're beautiful shades of pink and orange, and the bees have been busy lately, buzzing from bell to bell. I watch them and wonder what it would be like to be a bee. They get to fly and crawl around miles and miles of gorgeous flowers to gather the very energy that their society needs to sustain itself. They fly back and sometimes do a fancy dance for their identical siblings, informing the hive of the location of a particularly plentiful patch.
An alien kind of existence. Their communication system so different, so unintelligible to humans. We're going to have to spend millions in research grants, thousands of hours of effort, entire buildings built, and gigabytes of data across the globe will go towards understanding what one bee tells another by way of its dancing and buzzing. A task that their tiny minds are incredibly well-equipped to perform.
We are spending ourselves to understand the language, the grammar of bees. Because we wish to know their alien thoughts.
And of course our own thoughts are little-more understood.
Did you know that it costs about three hundred bucks - US dollars - to build an EMP bomb? That's 300$ for something that can fry every piece of electronics in about 10 city blocks. It's not a big explosion, either, just a small car-bomb that goes pop and suddenly every microchip around it is gone. Say bye-bye to your phone, laptop, tablet, your car, pacemaker, thermometer, fridge, maybe even your toilet. Need I go on?
Detonate this puppy around Wall Street and you can shut down the stock exchange for a week at least. If there's a hospital in the blast range, you'll likely cause some deaths as well.
Trigger this thing close enough to an airport, it's gonna rain planes.
Pop one in front of the White House and the President can't watch his TV for a while.
We set camp, organized shifts, and I fell asleep. I dreamt of golden fields of wheat. I think that’s what it was. I’d never seen golden fields of wheat, can’t tell you what they look like.
I walk through the golden fields and run my hands through the harvest. It’s been a good year.
What we now call the Seattle Freeze, they first described as Snowmageddon.
The Next Ice Age, or simply Ice, began as a year-long snow-storm that buried Seattle under six feet of ice. It all started with Seattle, and we were here to end it here as well.
The team comprised the six of us, a dozen satellites in orbit, and the high-altitude smart-base we called home, The Helix.
My name is Horatio Wyland Sils and I have been a soldier in this army for the past forty years, ever since the day of my birth. I was born in Rio, when the Ice had already covered most of Europe and North America.
When I was born, we hadn’t heard from China in a while.