If you could get a bunch of life together and then give it enough freedom to cultivate the conditions it needed to thrive, it would go forever, and no one needed to understand how it worked. [p. 182]
Walford was healthy but extremely skinny and underfed. For two years, all the biospherians were hungry. Their pocket-size farm had been plagued with insect infestations. Because they couldn't spray the beasties with poisons - since they would be drinking the evaporated runoff later in the week - they ate less. [p. 196]
Here in one paragraph is a pop-history of the world: The African savanna hatches human hunter-gatherers-raw biology; the hunter-gatherers hatch agriculture-domestication of the natural; the farmers hatch the industrial domestication of the machine; the industrialists hatch the currently emerging postindustrial whatever. We are still figuring out what it is, but I'll call it the marriage of the born and the made. [p. 235]
But as we cultivate synthetic life in our artifacts, we cultivate the loss of our command. [p. 407]
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