Omg.  This old thing?  I’m such a dork geek.   I wrote this in…probably 2003?  It’s so awfully written, but I’m too lazy to rewrite/edit it right now.  Someday, though…

Humans on Earth:  Lord of the Parasites

(This is Not a Suicide Letter)

Earth here.  Although I seem quite inanimate from a distance, as of now, I am very much alive.  I was born more than five billion years ago; but who’s counting?  When I was a young ball of fire, a gang of asteroids came by and threw rocks at me.  I suffered through the abuse, and now I’m a bigger planet for it.  But now I’m older and calmer, and the cosmic abuse has slowed, but now an abuse comes from within, in the form of a viral take-over.  In the beginning, things weren’t so stressful…

As the Littlest Earth, my good friend Mars was telling me that I was special because I sit third from Sun and that this is a great honor or something.  Mars told me that someday my surface would be teaming with microbial life, and that no other planets could achieve that.   There was speculation of such anomalies elsewhere in the universe, but no one has really seen them, and you can’t trust the asteroids.  Everyone says I’m blessed, but I think it’s more of a curse.  They call me ungrateful, but they don’t understand what it’s like to be the chance host of evolution.  I feel like a freak; it’s like this…

I can remember my first living organisms like it was yesterday. It all started back when I was three (billion).  I was going through some changes.  Jupiter was telling me that all planets go through them.  I felt awkward and uncomfortable; growing pains, I guess.

But anyway, that’s when it started.  As if an Immaculate Conception occurred, amino acids somehow fertilized my pubescent crevasses.  Some hormonal fluctuations occurred and water began covering my surfaces, but only in certain spots.  As a more mature earth, I have oceans and trenches and vents, oh my.  The heat that these release into the water is where the advanced microbial activity started.  All of the organisms started out using chemosynthesis, and the heat energy I was giving off through the vents, to fuel their own growth, and smell.

That was fine.  I didn’t bother them and they didn’t bother me, while we all were growing and changing for another billion or so years. Microorganisms where becoming bigger and more complex, just so they could eat amino acids.  This is what shaped them to what they have become today:  eat or be eaten.  Others followed, each with their own characteristics and personalities; each devising to make more of themselves.

Mars told me not to worry about it; that that’s just what they do and that they wouldn’t hurt me.  I agreed not to worry.

So I let them grow and change for another billion years and we did fine.  I was a proud host when I watched them take their first steps…onto land.  Some didn’t change at all, but many couldn’t be stopped.  Some became enormous reptiles; they grow up so fast.

One year, that wretched asteroid gang was in the area, when some of them hit me.  Many of the animals couldn’t handle it.  There was nothing I could do.  I watched them all grow up and now most where dead, or dying; millions of years gone in a blink.  I was depressed for a while.  I turned to drugs and changed my weather patterns.  Mars was concerned about me.  I was just waiting around for something to happen, and then it did.

A new type of animal seemed to be able to handle the quick changes that where happening.  They’re cuddly mammals that I’d been ignoring because they were small and insignificant, but they seemed to have what it took to survive my negative attitude: they took care of their young.  Although I missed the dinosaurs, I started to get attached to the little furballs.

All was perfect for some odd millions of years, until one animal started to get a little too bossy.  They were strange mammals in that they had little hair and used two legs instead of the common four; and they were getting smarter every twenty years, beating the old record of every two hundred years.

Like bullies, they got jealous that other animals had fur and could go places they couldn’t, so they killed them for their fur and cavorted all around with their carcasses.  With the animal carcasses, there was nowhere they couldn’t live.  Their eyes grew bigger than their mouths, and they began killing more than they could eat, which is another oddity they had.  Somehow I new they were going to be trouble, they were that peculiar.

They had a specific behavior that no other animals had tried before:  a method of passing on information from one generation to the rest.  It’s called “intelligence” and it began with language and moved to writing, so thousands could learn from just one individual’s discoveries, spreading the “intelligence” genes exponentially.

At first, organisms got by on size and toughness.  When that failed, stealth and acute skill and adapted senses had been perfected.  I thought that nothing good could come out of intelligence that spans several species, as they began to copy other animal’s forms of survival.  Killing anything, they became everything rolled into one species, being able to survive in any condition I could possibly create for them.  That means they can go unregulated.   Oh no….

They named themselves humans, and Mars went completely hysterical when he found out, boasting that hosting intelligent life was even more rare than hosting any life at all, that I might be nominated for Ruler of the Universe if I keep it up, with an Intelligent Army on my back.  He made sure I remembered who my friend was if that day ever comes.  “Army?  They’re more like a virus,” I said.  Humans might be my ticket to fame, but I am pessimistic, and only because they hurt me so much.

Today, well today… I hate humans more than I hate asteroid gangs.  They’re not as destructive as asteroids; they just have a versatile range of tortures.

They’re like bratty children who have no concept of social rules and norms, like they’re the only ones that live on me.  They’ve shaved my tree-hair, leaving razor burn skin of stubble stumps and patchy bald spots.  They scratch and scar and welt.  They tap into my river blood streams and suck them dry; their dams are my blood clots.  They bury their trash waste like a sliver:  Sometimes it’s not a problem, but sometimes I get severe infections.

They exhale carbon monoxide with their toys.  They sneeze toxic snot into my waters.  Their nuclear testing is my radiation poisoning and my cancer.

Their cluttered cities are my tumors: high concentrations of cells that suck up resources.  They’ve taken over everything and I don’t know how to stop them…yet.

Only recently have they realized that they’re tampering with something much more difficult than they can handle.  They think they know enough about my systems to control all of them. Random events got us all here, but the humans cancelled out random and replaced it with patterns they think they understand.  They’ve been here ten thousand years and they think they own the place.    A virus that multiplies as quickly as Humans do is a hard disease to beat; so I call them “the Lord of the Parasites.”

So, I’m depressed again.  My weather patterns are changing again.  I’m finding myself waiting again for something to happen.  All I can do is wait and write.

I will go on, though:  this is not a suicide letter.

I wonder what Mars thinks now that humans are sending explorer robots to other planets?  If I were Mars, I would look as dead as I could.  Mars, I’m not sure how you became such an expert on life, but listen to me….You don’t want this.


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