Human Universe. Andrew Cohen

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ From the North Star to the Stars

       Climate Change in the Rift Valley and Human Evolution

       ‘An Unprecedented Duel with Nature’

       Farming: The Bedrock of Civilisation

       The Kazak Adventure: Part 1

       Intermission: Beyond Memory

       The Kazak Adventure: Part 2

       Why are We Here?

       A Neat Piece of Logic

       New Dawn Fades

       The Rules of the Game

       Nature’s Fingerprint

       A Brief History of the Snowflake

       How the Leopard Got Its Spots

       A Universe Made for Us?

       A Day Without Yesterday?

       What is Our Future?

       Making the Darkness Visible

       Sudden Impact

       Seeing the Future

       Science Vs. Magic

       The Wonder of It All

       Dreamers: Part 1

       Dreamers: Part 2

       The End

       Plate Section Credits

       Picture Section

       Footnotes

       Index

       Acknowledgements

       About the Authors

       About the Publisher

       WHAT A PIECE OF WORK IS A

       MAN, HOW NOBLE IN REASON,

       HOW INFINITE IN FACULTIES,

       IN FORM AND MOVING HOW

       EXPRESS AND ADMIRABLE, IN

       ACTION HOW LIKE AN ANGEL, IN

       APPREHENSION HOW LIKE A GOD!

       THE BEAUTY OF THE WORLD,

       THE PARAGON OF ANIMALS –

       AND YET, TO ME, WHAT IS THIS

       QUINTESSENCE OF DUST? MAN

       DELIGHTS NOT ME – NOR WOMAN

       NEITHER, THOUGH BY YOUR

       SMILING YOU SEEM TO SAY SO.

       HAMLET

      What is a human being? Objectively, nothing of consequence. Particles of dust in an infinite arena, present for an instant in eternity. Clumps of atoms in a universe with more galaxies than people. And yet a human being is necessary for the question itself to exist, and the presence of a question in the universe – any question – is the most wonderful thing. Questions require minds, and minds bring meaning. What is meaning? I don’t know, except that the universe and every pointless speck inside it means something to me. I am astonished by the existence of a single atom, and find my civilisation to be an outrageous imprint on reality. I don’t understand it. Nobody does, but it makes me smile.

      This book asks questions about our origins, our destiny, and our place in the universe. We have no right to expect answers; we have no right to even ask. But ask and wonder we do. Human Universe is first and foremost a love letter to humanity; a celebration of our outrageous fortune in existing at all. I have chosen to write my letter in the language of science, because there is no better demonstration of our magnificent ascent from dust to paragon of animals than the exponentiation of knowledge generated by science. Two million years ago we were apemen. Now we are spacemen. That has happened, as far as we know, nowhere else. That is worth celebrating.

       WHERE ARE WE?

       We shall not cease from exploration,

       And the end of all our exploring

       Will be to arrive where we started

       And know the place for the first time.

       T. S. Eliot

       OAKBANK AVENUE, CHADDERTON, OLDHAM, GREATER MANCHESTER, ENGLAND, UNITED KINGDOM, EUROPE, EARTH, MILKY WAY, OBSERVABLE UNIVERSE …?

      For me, it was an early 1960s brick-built bungalow on Oakbank Avenue. If the wind was blowing from the east you could smell vinegar coming from Sarson’s Brewery – although these were rare days in Oldham, a town usually subjected to Westerlies dumping Atlantic moisture onto the textile mills, dampening their red brick in a permanent sheen against the sodden sky. On a good day, though, you’d take the vinegar in return for sunlight on the moors. Oldham looks like Joy Division sounds – and I like Joy Division. There was a newsagent on the corner of Kenilworth Avenue and Middleton Road and on Fridays my granddad would take me there and we’d buy a toy – usually a little car or truck. I’ve still got most of them. When I was older, I’d play tennis on the red cinder courts in Chadderton Hall Park and drink Woodpecker cider on the bench in the grounds of St Matthew’s Church. One autumn evening just after the start of the school year, and after a few sips, I had my first kiss there – all cold nose and sniffles. I suppose that sort of behaviour is frowned upon these days; the bloke in the off-licence would have been prosecuted by Oldham Council’s underage cider tsar and I’d be on a list. But I survived, and, eventually, I left Oldham for the University of Manchester.

      Everyone has an Oakbank Avenue; a place in space at the beginning of our time, central to an expanding personal universe. For our distant ancestors in the East African Rift, their expansion was one of physical experience alone, but for a human fortunate to be born in the latter half of the twentieth century in a country like mine, education powers the mind beyond direct experience – onwards and outwards and, in the case of this little boy, towards the stars.

      As СКАЧАТЬ