Friday, April 24, 2009
Millennia ago, Himiko oozed through the depths of space, leaving a glowing trail of purple slime that lit up the endless night behind him. When Himiko reached the planet we now know as Earth, it was a red-hot rock, still cooling from its painful birth. Himiko went to work, sprinkling our world with the genetic material that would one day give rise to the first fish, to dinosaurs, to the shambling apes, to us. And then Himiko retreated to the far depths of space, to patiently wait as he had patiently waited a thousand times before. He knew that life would arise on our world. One day, the planet would teem with noisy, angry, desperate life, land and sea and sky would be filled with the stuff, there would be life crackling in every stone of the little planet.
And then, not long after the little creatures of the Earth became aware of Himiko's existence, he would at last return. To feed.
OK, so maybe the unbelievably giant, unbelievably ancient blob that astronomers have discovered isn't really some sinister entity lurking out there in space, watching us with one big, glowing-white, hungry eye. But scientists have no idea what the hell that thing really is, so for now my guess is as good as anybody's.
Be prepared. Keep watching the skies for Himiko's return.