Ellen Ripley. Under pressure she steps up and does what needs doing. Whether that means operating a loader, comforting a child or making monsters extinct.
Honestly, I don't know what's supposed to be fun about cave diving. Like, normal diving doesn't push your buttons any more so the next logical step is to go diving in a grave?
Extinction. Our technology gives us the power of gods, but we still have the brains of hunter-gatherers optimised for living in tribes of less than 150 people. My own death doesn't worry me, I'm not bothered by knowing I'll be forgotten, but the possibility that there might not be anyone to carry on is what I think about at 3 AM when I can't sleep.
There's a theory that we were able to evolve our big problem-solving brains because we got access to higher-quality protein after teaming up with dogs as hunting partners. So did we breed them to be pets or did they breed us to be caretakers?
Just a few minutes ago. It was a thread about someone losing a beloved pet rat to old age. I want to say something comforting, but can't think of anything that doesn't seem trite or cliched.
Pretty much every day I get an update or two about how the James Webb telescope has kicked the legs out from under another one of cosmology's sacred cows.
Great to know how wrong we've been, but now I'm waiting for updates saying we've figured out why.
I've read a comment by someone who put a staircase in their memory palace with a step for each entry on the periodic table of elements. Anecdotal, I know.
Below is a horror movie set on a submarine. There's quite a lot of ordinary daily activity before things turn sour.