As much as I'm wracked with self-loathing for our species (geeks), I think that unless we get off this rock we've consigned ourselves to provincialism. If you take it, as I do, that there are others out there, then it seems a shame to sit here in the clubhouse until bedtime. Plus, y'know: eggs, basket, asteroids. It might be nice to know that all of our efforts won't be overturned by a stray chunk of space lint.
If the point of issue we stall on is the potential for ecological imperialism, we're obviously not going anywhere. In any event, that doesn't really affect us in the short term. As far I can tell, there's nothing alive on the Moon, prolly nothing alive on Mars, and odds are nothing yet on Europa, Ganymede or any of the other would-be cradles. |