I’ve had a series of very strange futuristic fantasy dreams lately. No, this habitat wasn’t in one of them but I’m hoping that if I can plant this image in my unconscious memory, I can keep the string going.
As anyone with a conservative or libertarian bent knows deep down I suspect, returning our culture to its classically liberal roots after a decades long incremental abandonment of the ideals set forth in our founding documents will be a daunting task. Perhaps an impossible one. After being so long on the path of demanding more while never acknowledging that that which is delivered must be paid for, it may be too late to turn back. With few exceptions these days, on the left and on the right, the nature of those in government is to accommodate the moneyed and the connected while dismissing the ordinary citizen. Grasping constantly for more power and becoming ever larger while the people, those ordinary citizens whose lives revolve around raising their children, putting in their forty hours a week or building a small business with the modest goal of making life a little easier for themselves and their families, are then forced by this alliance of government and the connected into picking up the ever increasing tab. We kvetch and complain, weary of the spin and the lies, drawing a line in the sand every two years to say “No more!”. Then we cast our votes for those mouthing the comforting words we wish to hear, the “same ‘ol same ‘ol” whether from the left or the right, and return our attention to families and jobs and whatever leisure time we can manage to squeeze into the near non-existent space between them. We have more important things to do than pay attention to politics after all. Who has the time or inclination. And we the people become smaller every election cycle without even noticing.
The quest by some for power and influence over others is a constant force. Like rising water working on an old earthen dam, an everyday glance for years will confirm that the stone is holding. Hard winters and the occasional heavy rain take their toll, but such a mass of earth and stone will surely hold the water in check. Until waking one morning you discover the water has crested the dam, a rivulet running over the top is fast becoming a torrent, and the seemingly immovable stone is too easily washed away. Gone like it was never there.
Far fetched? For my generation perhaps. For an entrepreneurial young tech savvy generation influenced by ideas like private space flight? Maybe not so much. That guy in the video? Milton Friedman’s grandson. If he’s half as smart as his grand dad, something like this might have legs.