Emperors in Exile

So, I was watching March of the Penguins the other day on HBO—the one with all the shuffle stepping and belly sliding and egg passing and cute little penguin fluff balls that you just wanna squeeze to hear them chirp. Bring up the soulful strings. Cue Morgan Freeman. I think it’s a great film, but it makes me wonder: “Whatttt the hell is going on with evolution?” THESE are the ones that get to survive? Really? These are the gymnastics that some living organisms are required to perform in order to pass their genetic code along to the next generation? Really? There wasn’t a simpler way, a way in which maybe they wouldn’t have to brave minus-500 degree temperatures with gale force winds in six months of darkness while they’re trying to hatch BABIES? And these are the Emperor Penguins, not Prince and Princess Penguins, not Dukes, Duchesses, Madams, Sirs, or even Middle-Class on the Upper West Side Penguins. These are the god damn Emperors. What did they do to deserve that? They must have been horrible rulers.

I sometimes hear religious people, who claim to believe in such things, say, “The Lord works in mysterious ways.” I gotta say … that feels like a massive understatement. Because – and I’m not even going to get into politics here—just the natural state of life on our precious blue planet seems so very, very very, very, very, very strange. Just watching those exiled Emperors, huddling in a circle against that cruel Antarctic wind—it’s either a shit-load of Hail Marys, or the longest, most complicated football play in history: “Ok, Jimmy you do a button hook around that bottle cap; Peewee, do a crisscross with Hermann and duck over the middle; Jake you fake right and do a curl behind Zeke; Jerry go long; I’ll fake the hand-off to Sudsy and pitch it to Benny coming around with Big Ed and Ugly Frank. He’ll fake the option, then lateral to Ozzie on the reverse. Wait for the sun to come up over the second iceberg, then toss it to Ike streaking down the coastline. Watch out for blitzing sea lions. Anybody drops an egg, we all fall on it or it’ll freeze solid in eight seconds. Break!”

What are they thinking about during that long, vicious, bitingly cold night? I mean, the Aurora Borealis is pretty cool, but I don’t think that’s gonna be enough. Maybe it’s a deep, repetitive reincarnation chant. “I’m coming back as a flamingo. I’m coming back as a flamingo. No way I’m doing this shit again. I’m coming back as a flamingo. Next time, I’m gonna be kicking it in the tropics. I’m coming back as a flamingo. Sandy beaches. All the shrimp you can eat. Nothing but palm trees and warmmmm water. I’m coming back as a flamingo. Hey!!! Watch it bub? Get your feathers out of my face? It’s my turn to be in the middle! I’ve been freezing my ass off out on the edge for over an hour. We gotta freekin’ line here, ya know! No cuts!... Next time …. Yeah, yeah, flamingo for sure. Pink and tall. I’m coming back as a flamingo.”

And Emperor Penguins are not even the only ones who have to endure such trials. Humpback whales mate and give birth in the warm, tropical waters around the Hawaiian Islands. That sounds pretty sweet. I mean, we lived in northern Wisconsin when our kids were born. Finally, an evolutionary adaptation I can get on board with. Woohoo!!! But there’s no food for them in those groovy Aloha waters. They don’t eat poi or pineapple. Their meals are served up off the balmy, storm-tossed coast of Alaska. So, the new mothers must swim there with their calves, who frequently need to rest atop mom’s back in order to have enough energy to make it to the surface regularly TO BREATHE. The journey takes them months, and, just to kick it up a notch, along the way they’re hounded by pods of Orcas, the smartest, most lethal hunters in the ocean. Thanks a lot Sherlock!

What would the evolutionary advantage there be? I suppose in most cases, it’s all about finding a place far from claws and teeth to bring babies into the world. Still, you would think they might catch a break and at least have a smoothie bar around the corner, just a little something to tide them over. A Krill Swim & Go? A Sardine Shack?

That breathing thing is another freaky evolutionary feature. “Ok so you’re going to be able to swim like a MOFO, I mean, you’ll be slicing through the water, darting here and there, graceful, quick, all day long, no problem, except every so often … and this is a glitch we just haven’t been able to work out of the software … every so often you’re gonna have to stick your snout out of the water, just for a second or two, to breathe. But you can go right back down again. Back to swimming, chilling, darting here and there … catch some fish … It’ll be beautiful.”

“And how long do I have to keep popping out of the water to breathe.”

“Oh, that’s permanent. That’s just something you do.”

“And if I don’t make it up. Maybe I get distracted, lose track of time, meeting runs late, stuck in traffic?”

“Oh, you’re gonna wanna make it back up to the air.”

“Well, let’s say I don’t, just once, for argument’s sake. Hypothetical.”

“You’ll die.”

“I’ll die?”

“Yeah. Sorry. That’s hard-wired in. DEAD as a doornail. Nothing we could do about it.”

What would it be like for humans if we had to do the opposite? Every so many seconds you have to dip your head in some water to catch a breath or you’ll suffocate. Every step, every action, every decision would be measured against how long it will take you to get back to water. Talk about a biological clock! You’d always have that “tick, tick, tick” counting down. “Can I make it to Kroger and back? Do I have time to stop at the bank? If I take the bike path along the river and stop at the pool….” Instead of tanks of air, we’d have to strap on big water-cooler sized jugs. I’ve never gone scuba diving, but I’m guessing they’d be quite a bit heavier.

I can’t imagine that would get very far in the design process. I mean, I know there are no bad ideas in brainstorming but.… “It’s time for the regular weekly Evolution design team meeting. We’ve done some good work with whales, dolphins, seals, sea otters. A whole host of mammals are spending most of their days swimming underwater and surface only periodically to inhale. Now, we have a suggestion from upstairs, wants to shake things up a bit, try something new, think outside the box. What if we had a mammal that lived primarily on land, but had to go underwater to breathe? What would that look like? We’ve written all the brainstorms for new creatures up here on these big sheets. Fire-breathing dragon. Unicorns. Mermaids. And now water-breathing homo sapiens? Put your blue dots next to the ones you’d like to see fleshed out in the next design phase. Don’t worry about the budget. We’re just blue-skying it for now.”

The more you think about it, there are all sorts of evolutionary twists and turns that seem totally preposterous, and yet there they are, going about their business, flying here, swimming there, species with crazy tongues, hardened shells, bioluminescent organs, clear the room odors, doing it year in and year out. In Home Deus: A Brief History of Tomorrow, historian Yuval Noah Harari suggests that storytelling turns out to be one of the most important evolutionary advantages developed by homo sapiens. He argues that by being able to tell stories, we have managed to cooperate, join forces, work together in great numbers across vast chasms of space and time to accomplish what was needed to pass along our genetic code to future generations. Storytelling. Spinning the proverbial yarn. Weaving a tale. Talking some serious shite! And that has made the difference. That has taken us from caves of Lascaux to the Sea of Tranquility. Images, words, phrases, and sentences forming ideas. Creating stories has established connections, reinforced bonds, repaired injuries, unified communities, built nations. It’s not who has the biggest horns, the brightest feathers, the loudest bellow, the best nest. It’s our stories that have enabled us to succeed, the ones we tell ourselves, the ones we tell others. We have evolved the ability to tell stories that say, “If we all join forces, work together, learn to trust each other, we can do this, that, and the other thing. We can make our lives better. We can make a place for our kids.”

Hmmm? That’s kind of an awesome evolutionary superpower. I won’t say that there isn’t still a fair amount of mystery embedded in that trait, and “awesome” can cut both ways, but … as long as I don’t have to balance an egg on my feet in the freezing cold or swim half way around the world to get a decent meal? And I can keep on breathing, in and out, like always? Ok. I’m in!