Hey, humanity, we have to talk. It's about your living arrangements. Look, I'm going to put this bluntly: you're 200 000 years old (or so) and still living at your mother's house. And frankly, you're trashing the place: leaving your superfund sites, your Zones of Alienation , your islands of indestructible plastic waste, leftover minefields and unexploded weapons all over the place. There are whispers around the Solar System that say mother Earth would be better off without you entirely.
You know something? It goes both ways. Let Terra rest. Let her be a parkland, a paradise once more.
You're a little old for all this now. Don't you think might be time to move out? I know, it's hard. It's all you've ever known, and you do love mommy so, but you can still come back and visit whenever you'd like. It won't be so bad! The solar system might seem scary and empty and dark at first, but hey, it's always that way. Remember the first time we tried to get you to go into the pool, humanity? You were kicking and screaming, terrified you'd fall off the edge of the world, or be eaten by sea monsters. You didn't, though, did you? Of course not. So let's just take a look around at what's out there, shall we?
There is the moon, of course, but whatever water supplies might exist are going to be rather limited, so we can't just put the whole civilization there--and does it really count as moving out when it's right across the street from mommy? Common, humanity, we can do better than that.
Mars? Mars, yeah, okay, Mars is nice, but it might be taken by native life, and you just trashed one ecosphere, remember? That's why we had to move out; you're not just going to crash on Uncle Mars's couch and trash his place next. Not cool, humanity. Between the acid and the searing heat, Aunt Venus has already made it pretty clear that we're not welcome knocking on her doorstep, and she might even have an ecosystem of her own. To be honest, nobody with kids is going to want you anywhere near them, humanity, not with how badly you beat up on your siblings back home. Forget the planets, though. There's plenty of real-estate in smaller markets--you don't jump right out and buy a mansion, right? Check out the asteroids. Looks like carbanous chondroids are the most common type on the market right now, and they'll suit you just fine. Some 20-50% water by weight, 10 or 20 metals, then silicon and carbon/nitrogen/phosphorous and other nice life-giving elements making up the rest. It's perfect!
Oh, no atmosphere? Humanity, it is time you learned to look after yourself. Your mother has been providing you with free atmosphere, drinking water, organic waste recycling--you're a spoiled brat, and have to get over it. You can handle that stuff, Humanity.You learned to grow your own food instead of what your Mom left out for you in the forests and on the planes; you're better of for that, aren't you? It'll be the same way with atmospheres, trust me.
Oh, you don't think one dinky asteroid is enough room for all your stuff? You're probably right. Here's what we do. Try and count the asteroids, humanity. Ignore everything whizzing around further out (you'll never get done) and just look at the Main Belt between Mars and Jupiter. Go ahead and count them. It's okay, I'll wait.
...yeah, it's alot.
How much room? Room to grow, humanity. Room to grow. You could let your population hit a couple Trillion living out in the Belt, no problems. Sustainable, if you learn to do your own recycling. Not looking to gain that much weight? Then each of your current 6.8 Billion souls can be a billionaire. No, seriously. You like bling, right? About 10% of the main belt is M-type (metal): lumps of gold, stainless steel and platinum the size of Mount Everest, or larger still. Plenty of bling for everyone.
So what are you waiting for, Humanity?
It's about time you move out; you and Mother Earth will both be better off for it, so long as you clean up your messes on your way out.
And who knows? If you're not still living with your mom, maybe that cute Little Red-Haired Girl from Alpha Centauri will finally talk to you.
For more on this vein, if less irreverent, I heartily recommend Mining the Sky by John S. Lewis.
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