The Horton Dilemma [ONC 2022]

THE QUEEN OF GRASSHOPPERS'S TEDTalk

On the ceiling of the auditorium are hundreds of spotlights, all shining directly on me as I make my way onto the stage, front and center. This auditorium seats thousands of people, but with the dazzling lights impeding my vision and the sound of my heartbeat drumming in my ears and my nerves getting the better of me, I'm unable to make out individual faces. In fact, I feel a bit woozy, the moment feels a bit surreal, and I wonder if something's about to pluck me out of this reality and tell me it was never really real in the first place.

My nails touch my fingertips, a grounding technique I learned from my therapist. An urge to pinch myself festers inside of me, my fear that this is not real—that it might just be a dream—still lingering.

I take three slow deep breaths, counting to four with each inhale and exhale. My mouth opens, and I begin to speak. "Hello, everyone. I'm Izzy Belvin. You may have heard of me, or at least, you may have heard my nickname: the Queen of Grasshoppers."

Speaking the first sentence seems to loose all of the nervous energy I've been keeping inside, and I relax. The blob of blurred colors that previously formed the audience now turns to a crowd of distinguishable people, their eyes intent on me, active listening engaged. Some of them came here specifically to see me. Specifically to hear about my impending journey, the role I'll play in one billionaire's vision. I smile at them, and preparing to give them what they came here for.

"In three months, on September 23, 2050, I will quarantine for a period of fourteen days before jumping on a rocket and blasting off to Mars, where the second Martian colony awaits me. Gordon Goby, the tech entrepreneur funding the colony, personally extended me an invitation, seeking my expertise to increase the colony's sustainability. My expertise lies in genetic engineering. My notoriety, and my aforementioned nickname, comes from engineering a fist-sized grasshopper bursting with macronutrients, aptly named the Belvin Grasshopper. A single full-size grasshopper accounts for 125 grams of carbs, 50 grams of protein, and 35 grams of fat. This means that a colony of one-hundred-and-fifty people can live on three-hundred grasshoppers alone per day.

"A Belvin Grasshopper farm already exists on Goby's colony. The grasshoppers are bred, raised, and eventually dry-roasted and ground into flour, which can be cooked and baked in a variety of ways. The grasshoppers can be eaten whole and uncooked, but most people prefer them roasted and ground down into something that no longer looks like a grasshopper. Even in 2050, Americans still harbor an encultured disgust of eating visibly insect-like insects, but let me tell you: I've eaten one of my grasshoppers while looking in its beady little eye, and I didn't hate it." I shrug here, a cutesy shrug.

A few audience members recognize my words as meant to elicit amusement, and they laugh.

I continue, "The first Martian colony relies primarily on fungi for food. Fungi doesn't require much light, and waste can be used as fertilizer, which is why the first colony thought it would work well. The problem that they're encountering is the lack of water: growing fungus on an arid planet requires a lot of water, even on top of the water found in the waste. They've had to double their ice mining efforts to procure enough water for their colony. It's costly and it's not sustainable. Farming grasshoppers, on the other hand, is much more sustainable. Grasshopper farms don't require nearly as much water.

"It's true that, once I live on Mars, I won't have access to the same kind of living materials as I do here on Earth. This is why I'll be bringing a variety of 'mini-farms,' mini ecosystems mainly supporting insects, to the red planet. With these materials, I hope to create a new insect that can provide us with even more nutrients than the Belvin Grasshopper. Not only will our colony benefit from this; others will, too. Future colonies.

"Several new Martian colonies are being planned as we speak. French billionaire Marie Dupont is launching her own colony within the next two years. American and Indian billionaires Hansen Wolff and Vijay Kumar are also delving into their future colonies' blueprints. The Russian Federation Space Agency and the Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency have both laid claim to land sites on Mars. NASA and the European Space Agency will undoubtedly follow suit. It's only a matter of time before other billionaires and space agencies claim Martian ground.

"The primary goal of Martian colonization has always been human survival. In the event of a large asteroid striking Earth, or another extinction-level event, Martian humans will carry humanity forward. But conditions on Mars are harsh. Creating self-sustaining colonies is of the utmost importance.

"Insect farming is proving vital to our Martian colony's sustainability goals, and I'm sure it will become a cornerstone of many Martian colonies to come."

Looking around at the already-convinced faces, I get the feeling that I don't need to further convince these people my work is important. They don't need to be persuaded about the necessity of humans colonizing space. The naysayers, numerous as they are, probably wouldn't pay to see my TEDTalk in person; their skeptical faces are missing from my sight. Still, I'm thankful I don't have to hold an open-question period, just in case they are here, somewhere outside my visibility; I don't feel like fielding counterarguments, not from people who don't believe in billionaires, or space colonization, or billionaires funding and directing space colonization, and also not from people who think my work constitutes insect cruelty.

The faces wait for the end of my speech expectantly, and my final lines come to me. "And please be aware: Mars is just our latest entry into the final frontier. We're not finished. Humans will prove that we can adapt to any of the harsh conditions presented by space, in our solar system and beyond. Maybe we'll even meet some aliens along the way. We can look to the future, but we must also focus on the present. And for now, that means: grasshopper pancakes for breakfast on Mars."

I end my speech with a dramatized smile and wink, and my crowd bursts into cheers. I take every bit of applause I can get. It's food for my ego.

subchapter | ego

Many people who hear the word "ego" automatically think of phrases like "self-importance," and they subsequently think of people with "big egos" i.e., people with too much self-importance.

But to philosophers, the term is much simpler and much more nuanced, paradox that may be. To philosophers, the ego is the perception of the self. It is the vehicle of consciousness that navigates and creates one's personal identity. Without the ego, the concept of "I" would not exist.

What does it mean, then, for one to lose their ego?