For billions of years, across the endless darkness, Stars were born, and burned, and died. And nobody mourned their passing nor thought them beautiful.
But in the wake of their violent death came new stars, Slowly evolving over the eons. Denser. Heavier. Until at last, at least one fragile dot was formed.
And for millions of years, Biological creatures were born and lived and died, Tearing each other apart. Incapable of mourning one another’s passing nor seeing beauty in their world. But in the wake of their deaths came children.
Slowly evolving, not in any particular direction that anyone intended.
Until, at last, a line was passed: The border between uncaring matter, And matter arranged into patterns with desires and drive.
The border between unthinking matter, And matter that could contemplate the patterns around it.
And somewhere, at some point, in those fertile imaginations, The first ideas took hold. The first stories were told.
And for thousands of years, Stories were born, and lived, and often but did not always die. They evolved, not in any particular direction, but neither entirely directionless. We shaped our stories, and they shaped us in turn.
Stories helped us to thrive and persevere against overwhelming odds. To trust and help each other when by all rights we should have left each other to die.
And sometimes, our stories led us to genocide, or to erect institutions beyond our control, indifferent to our suffering.
…
We live in a world where suffering and death are part of reality. And I will not try to tell you that that is somehow okay, because it’s not. And I will not try to tell you that we will necessarily ever overcome those things, Because I don’t know whether we can, And tonight is not about blind hope.
I can tell you we will try.
I can tell you that Carl Sagan… and Edward Jenner, Donald Henderson, and Ali Maow Maalin… Everyone you’ve ever loved.
Not anyone who ever was but everyone that anyone has heard of, A small part of those people have survived, their patterns preserved in the stories we tell.
We preserve those patterns as best we can.
And finally, I can tell you: that we are part of a story that is bigger than us.
Our pursuit of truth, and our pursuit of happiness - that saga stretching across the ages. That saga is not invulnerable. It is in some ways frail. But compared to any one of us it is incredibly difficult to extinguish.
We are a part of a story that is powerful and beautiful and will probably outlive us. It will possibly outlive our children. It could potentially outlive humanity.
And we, the people in this room, the people on this planet, have the power to shape those stories, and guide them into the future.
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