Space Balls

In the sewers of London, there are 15-ton “fatbergs.”

Massive congealed clots of rotting fat.

“Created,” it is said, “by people pouring cooking oils down the drain and flushing sanitary products.”

And consisting of “rotting food, faeces and sanitary wipes.”

Party.

Many, are the fatbergs.

To dissolve but one of them, requires “workmen us[ing] a high-pressure jet of water to blast away the massive blockage over ten nights.”

This says something, about the current state of anglo civilization.

Perhaps it is too soon, to know exactly what. Is said.

But, whatever, it is, that is said: I don’t think that it is Good.

Meanwhile, Science Men are having an organism, because they succeeded in rendering a Da Vinci Mona Lisa that is 30 microns in width.

Or, put more simply, so small that it is totally and extremely beyond the boundaries of sight, of the human eye.

So why? Why did they do this?

Who is going to look at it? This invisible Lisa?

Nanobots?

But they don’t Care. The Science Men. About the Why.

For they are Science Men. They will do whatever it is they Can. Regardless of whether there is a Reason. Or a Why.

Like Enrico Fermi. Who, before the first atomic bomb went off, there in New Mexico, calculated there was a good chance said bomb would ignite the atmosphere.

The only Question, to him, was whether it would ignite just the local atmosphere, or that of the entire planet.

Whether those who breathed would die “just” locally, or whether every breathing creature, planet-wide, would breathe their last, everywhere.

He took bets. Fermi. On the Question.

I believe that the fatbergs and the micron-Lisa can be combined in a way that will do humans Good.

For I propose that a 15-ton “fatberg” be extracted from the bowels of the London deep, then be imprinted with trillions of tiny Mona Lisa reproductions, then be shot out into space.

So that passing aliens, when they gaze upon the rotting microns, can get a sense, of what humans are all about.

So let it fester, blindly. So let it be done.