The “Monkey Shakespeare” project was an interdisciplinary collaboration between the humanities and the science departments. But after a short clip of the monkeys pooping into the typewriter was circulated online, everyone began to distance themselves from it.
My body, made out of a plastic skeleton covered by stuffing and soft cloth skin, is flat and wide. My legs are short and thick. My eyes are wide open and smiley.
Yet every species has its unique way of passing on its wisdom through the ages, its way of making thoughts visible, tangible, frozen for a moment like a bulwark against the irresistible tide of time. Everyone makes books.
So there I was, a new gas giant just waking up. The disk of nebular dust surrounded me like a fresh blanket of snow. Along with the rest of the planets, I marched around that dust cloud, absorbing everything I could, growing and loving every second.
Then I saw her.
She held up her finger against my lips. So close to her, I finally noticed her scent. It was like her mother’s, floral and sweet, but also bright, like blankets dried in the sun. I felt my face grow warm.
But the Carboniferous Period, 350 million years before civilization, is the perfect time to retire.
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