Terraforming

Terraforming is a word that always becomes confused in my brain as two separate ideas. The dictionary identified idea of terraforming is the shifting and shaping of other moons or planets to make it suitable for future human dwellers: modifying it's atmosphere, ecology and temperature to recreate an Earth-like biosphere. Most people would think of it as a copy and paste function. There are the people that imagine terraforming to be a gradual shift toward a greater more adaptable society. That environments aren't being destroyed or conquered, but teased, and persuaded and accelerated into a brighter, more diverse and adaptable ecological vantage point. Then there are people who think of it more like Delete and Place in Trash. Where one man in a grey suit sits behind a dusty 1980s Mac (because it's retro and he's hip and young and alone and needs to prove himself as he has anxiety issues about the suit which may be the wrong shade and that his mother keeps calling him in public places and why he hasn't had a date in six months and why he hasn't met a girl he's liked since 12th grade where he caught Mandy kissing Tom behind the bushes of his house, "OH WHY? WHY ME" he thinks as boots up his computer) and presses a button and it deletes a section of the planet he didn't like. How very meta of him. It's this view that lays blame easily.

Sometimes I think of terraforming like a shadow that looms over a new project and makes you feel uneasy and sweaty and creates a racing thought process to whether you applied enough, if any, deodorant that day. Perhaps I should have stayed sitting at the bottom of that shower, watching the water circle into the drain. At least it can see it's final destination. The shower's glass has fogged up. All I can see is my knees, and I have a strong suspicion that the water will turn cold soon.