The universe is indifferent to our existence. It doesn't know we're here. If we were all snuffed out tonight, it wouldn't notice we were gone. It owes us nothing. It simply is. It doesn't care one way or another. In many ways, this is more difficult to accept than if the universe were actively out to get us - many people would prefer to believe in a hostile universe than a blind, apathetic one.
At least if the cosmos were malevolent, we would have an outside force to which our failures could be attributed. But if the alternative is true, if the universe truly doesn't care, then there is no one to blame our failings on. There is no parent looking over us and no cradle to return to when we become afraid.
But take heart. If we overcome our fear of being tiny, there are wonders to be had.
We dutifully explore our own origins. We design and redesign agriculture, without which billions would starve to death. We manufacture vaccines that spare unthinkable suffering. We create great works of art and culture, and contemplate our own cosmic circumstances.
And we are beginning to explore the stars.
The significance of our lives, and our fragile little world, are then determined by our knowledge, wisdom and bravery. So on the contrary, I am an optimist till the end. I find it preferable to embrace a difficult truth than a reassuring myth, but I feel there's potential to our species yet unseen.
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