You know, the more I think about it, the more 'changing the color of things' seems like a great power. In books, if it's mentioned, it's almost always a joke. But think about it...
Change someone's retinas black, and they go blind.
Change someone's blood all blue, and they suffocate.
Make more of someone's blood white, and they heal faster.
Make the sky black in a certain area; the plants die, and people get sick (no vitamin D).
In the real world, if you could easily generate sunlight in concentrated doses, solar panel companies would be all over you.
Make the sun red, and the world is burned to a crisp.
Make yourself transparent and pass by security cameras.
One word; propaganda.
If there was a villain with this power, they'd be pretty much unstoppable. Destroying the world would be easy. Murder would only require a thought.
If there was a hero with this power, the book would be over in pages.
Forget flying or super-strength. Color-changing; now that's a real superpower.
Showing posts with label random thoughts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label random thoughts. Show all posts
This I believe #2
This I believe; science is one part logic and one part wonder, and far too often, the latter is forgotten.
As a child, I participated in science fairs, I read my fair share of National Geographic For Kids magazines, but I didn't think of myself as a scientist. Unlike some, my fascination with science wasn't piqued by books or teachers. Instead, it was a single moment of wonder.
I remember it clearly. I was ten years old at the time. My family was visiting my grandparents, who live in Long Beach Washington, where deer eat by the roads, clamming is a neighborhood event, and significantly, there is little light pollution.
My grandpa decided to take our family on a walk down to the beach, when it was dark at night. We took flashlights and my sister and I enjoyed shining them on the waving beach grass. The sky was the last thing on our minds. But when we were a good distance from the houses, my grandpa told us to turn our flashlights off, and look up.
I remember giving a little gasp when I did. Back home, I had never seen more than a handful of stars in the sky at the same time. I had seen star charts at school, and I knew, generally, that there were millions of stars in the sky, but never until then had I seen them. Unburdened by the sight-dimming lights of electricity, the stars put on a silent, slow dance for us.
My grandpa, after allowing us some time to ooh and aah, started to point out specific features.
"See that? There's the Milky Way. And over there? That red dot? That's Mars."
My mouth hung open as I stared upwards. The cold of night, the gravelly path, everything around me seemed to fade in the face of something so magnificent.
After several more seconds, I pointed up.
"That one's moving!" I exclaimed.
"That's a satellite," he replied.
I remembered that satellites were man-made objects, sent into orbit. What I had so easily mistaken for a star was, in fact, put there by scientists.
That was when it clicked. Up until then, I had been simply observing, looking at what seemed an unconquerable force of nature. But there it was, right before my eyes, mankind's tiny fingerprint on the whole of the universe. My ten year-old mind realized suddenly, that though humans are comparatively small, we could carve out our niche in the universe.
And, in the end, after the math, the calculations, and the projects, that's what science is all about, isn't it? Whether it's contributions to medicine, sending a rocket to the moon, or studying the habits of birds, science seeks to find, little by little, our place in the cosmos.
To truly be a scientist, one must embrace amazing wonder along with the cold force of logic. This I believe.
As a child, I participated in science fairs, I read my fair share of National Geographic For Kids magazines, but I didn't think of myself as a scientist. Unlike some, my fascination with science wasn't piqued by books or teachers. Instead, it was a single moment of wonder.
I remember it clearly. I was ten years old at the time. My family was visiting my grandparents, who live in Long Beach Washington, where deer eat by the roads, clamming is a neighborhood event, and significantly, there is little light pollution.
My grandpa decided to take our family on a walk down to the beach, when it was dark at night. We took flashlights and my sister and I enjoyed shining them on the waving beach grass. The sky was the last thing on our minds. But when we were a good distance from the houses, my grandpa told us to turn our flashlights off, and look up.
I remember giving a little gasp when I did. Back home, I had never seen more than a handful of stars in the sky at the same time. I had seen star charts at school, and I knew, generally, that there were millions of stars in the sky, but never until then had I seen them. Unburdened by the sight-dimming lights of electricity, the stars put on a silent, slow dance for us.
My grandpa, after allowing us some time to ooh and aah, started to point out specific features.
"See that? There's the Milky Way. And over there? That red dot? That's Mars."
My mouth hung open as I stared upwards. The cold of night, the gravelly path, everything around me seemed to fade in the face of something so magnificent.
After several more seconds, I pointed up.
"That one's moving!" I exclaimed.
"That's a satellite," he replied.
I remembered that satellites were man-made objects, sent into orbit. What I had so easily mistaken for a star was, in fact, put there by scientists.
That was when it clicked. Up until then, I had been simply observing, looking at what seemed an unconquerable force of nature. But there it was, right before my eyes, mankind's tiny fingerprint on the whole of the universe. My ten year-old mind realized suddenly, that though humans are comparatively small, we could carve out our niche in the universe.
And, in the end, after the math, the calculations, and the projects, that's what science is all about, isn't it? Whether it's contributions to medicine, sending a rocket to the moon, or studying the habits of birds, science seeks to find, little by little, our place in the cosmos.
To truly be a scientist, one must embrace amazing wonder along with the cold force of logic. This I believe.
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