Neogeny
"...in many ways, this is a far more important biotech development than cloning. While the bacteriophage constructed by the team, "phiX," is an existing virus, this was a necessary first step for the construction of wholly original forms of life. Venter's crew is focusing on building microbes for the production of energy resources (such as hydrogren), but bacteriophages may have broad applications, including serving as novel forms of antibiotics when traditional medicines fail.
But larger questions loom."
�Another World Is Here Nov.14.03
link beyondthebeyond
Ω{Daniel Boone's uncluttered mind, his conscience too like that, the morality of anything at all seems pale now.
What difference does it make if they're 'wrong' if they live forever and the ones who are right are gone? It disappears, that right and wrong stuff, it disappears with the ones who disappear.
My personal, and I mean that it's mine, I don't mean to suggest it's something we all should be doing, my personal morality gets locked up on the conflict, they can't, they are, they have, they did, they will, but then I look around and it's all shit, it's fantasy and poison, concrete skin above dirt that can outwait anything animal, or vegetable.
Again personally, I keep this imagery from the early days of television, which were my early days as well, echoes from just before that, the rattletrap shacks and kettles of the hillbillies, the against-progress drawl and overhauls, the 'God wanted us to fly we'd surely be wing�d', the automobile stink rejected, electricity a rumor, the telephone a curse, and then the whole mountain gets carved up and carried away.
This is the way it went. And anything that comes out of this will see its beginning in just that. The myth of its creation, the necessity, the divinity, the grace and blood of birth and life begun in all this mad terror and blind groping. There must be a place where that line can be drawn firmly and indelibly across the path. Turn back here, turn away here, past this is only irrecoverable fall. Some place where it's too late, almost, and then it is.
They won't stop. I know that. But look at it. How the chaos rises from every valley now every river the sea and the weather change beyond catching, is it spite? Is it the carved initials of some punk, manic in his cell? Worse? Is this a hopeful thing? Who are these men that can make life now? Are they heroes? Saints? Do they meet with the wisest on a regular basis for guidance and clarity? Or do they entertain themselves at the trough with the rest?
My guess is the thing they serve isn't human, isn't born yet, and doesn't see us as anything to worry about.
Maybe it should though.
I'm not afraid of magic and hardware, or spells and prayer either. And I'm ready to give it all for something that comes after, that comes from what came before this, that we were given to carry.
I don't think we were supposed to build it, I think we were supposed to preserve it, because it was already here.}
"...in many ways, this is a far more important biotech development than cloning. While the bacteriophage constructed by the team, "phiX," is an existing virus, this was a necessary first step for the construction of wholly original forms of life. Venter's crew is focusing on building microbes for the production of energy resources (such as hydrogren), but bacteriophages may have broad applications, including serving as novel forms of antibiotics when traditional medicines fail.
But larger questions loom."
�Another World Is Here Nov.14.03
link beyondthebeyond
Ω{Daniel Boone's uncluttered mind, his conscience too like that, the morality of anything at all seems pale now.
What difference does it make if they're 'wrong' if they live forever and the ones who are right are gone? It disappears, that right and wrong stuff, it disappears with the ones who disappear.
My personal, and I mean that it's mine, I don't mean to suggest it's something we all should be doing, my personal morality gets locked up on the conflict, they can't, they are, they have, they did, they will, but then I look around and it's all shit, it's fantasy and poison, concrete skin above dirt that can outwait anything animal, or vegetable.
Again personally, I keep this imagery from the early days of television, which were my early days as well, echoes from just before that, the rattletrap shacks and kettles of the hillbillies, the against-progress drawl and overhauls, the 'God wanted us to fly we'd surely be wing�d', the automobile stink rejected, electricity a rumor, the telephone a curse, and then the whole mountain gets carved up and carried away.
This is the way it went. And anything that comes out of this will see its beginning in just that. The myth of its creation, the necessity, the divinity, the grace and blood of birth and life begun in all this mad terror and blind groping. There must be a place where that line can be drawn firmly and indelibly across the path. Turn back here, turn away here, past this is only irrecoverable fall. Some place where it's too late, almost, and then it is.
They won't stop. I know that. But look at it. How the chaos rises from every valley now every river the sea and the weather change beyond catching, is it spite? Is it the carved initials of some punk, manic in his cell? Worse? Is this a hopeful thing? Who are these men that can make life now? Are they heroes? Saints? Do they meet with the wisest on a regular basis for guidance and clarity? Or do they entertain themselves at the trough with the rest?
My guess is the thing they serve isn't human, isn't born yet, and doesn't see us as anything to worry about.
Maybe it should though.
I'm not afraid of magic and hardware, or spells and prayer either. And I'm ready to give it all for something that comes after, that comes from what came before this, that we were given to carry.
I don't think we were supposed to build it, I think we were supposed to preserve it, because it was already here.}
