![]() Change one variable, and the results would be drastically different. That fear even goes down to the very core of human existence, doesn't it? After all, even our births are matters of chance, as would be the way we turned out until today, despite cultural nurturing of our characters. Often it acts as a shield against one of our greatest fears: That we don't matter one bit, and just happened to fall prey to coincidence. ![]() I'm sure every single one of us has suffered from that kind of inflated ego one time or another. Mankind labors under the vain idea that the alien visitors of the Zones may have left their swag deliberately to teach man to reach out and make scientific leaps, as if they're a chosen species by intelligences beyond their comprehension. One of these points that made me giddy, and is one that I've appreciated for what feels like ages, would be the very human fear of being irrelevant in the grander scheme, and even the smaller scope. In a way, it frames some of the archetypical themes of science fiction and contact novels without ever giving definitive answers one way or another, providing food for thought and chilling considerations over preachy answers and delusions. I found myself impressed and teased time and again by all its little implications and large questions. Roadside Picnic is a hugely expressive novel in all its intended ambiguity and rendition of hard lives all around. ![]()
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