We humans, with our science, are hacking God’s source code. I give the name, God, to all the mystery and all the explanation that a human ever had faith in before science came and began gnawing away at wonder. And, yes, it is truth, I think, that science reveals greater beauty than we ever knew existed… but just as often it seems to let Amazon.com figure out which subtly manipulative nudge to give me toward buying that waffle iron they know I need before I do. I don’t like the feeling of being the subtly domesticated – no matter how pleasant the reinforcement… But I keep coming back for more don’t I? So I must like it some.

Science is our mistress, and she feeds us all, whether we fawn over her or not. She seems to me a mistress without purpose, but then I must look the same to the animals I raise – for slaughter and as pets. Orwell looks more and more the prophet. Wall-Mart reaps more and more profit… But I haven’t had many hungry days in my life, and my father has… but not in a long while… Being domesticated has its upsides. Science is the path to our prosperity and our relinquishment of mystery. Freedom is mystery’s illusion, and I miss believing I have choice, even as I still feel I have choice. I enjoy my belly filled up with the food made possible because of scientific innovation… and, in part, chosen because of increasingly scientific manipulation.

I consider all these things, but choice was only ever an illusion. I breath, and think, and live, as surely and predictably as dominoes falling. Everyone always has and always will. I find it disconcerting to be vaguely aware and apparently powerless.