Chapter 1: The Drunken Encounter

I had arranged to meet with Evolution for an enlightening discussion, but to my surprise, she showed up intoxicated.

MD: Are you inebriated?

Evolution: Of course! I'm Evolution; I can indulge if I wish. Care for a drink?

MD: No, thanks. Is this a nod to "Drunk History"?

Evolution: If you think so! That show is entertaining. But let’s talk about the platypus. You believe such an anomaly happens without my influence? I'm an artist and sometimes need a bit of inspiration. But really, I’ve been at this for nearly four billion years. Those fruit-eating creatures love their fermented delicacies…

MD: Are you implying you influence evolution on other planets?

Evolution: [Snorts] That’s a secret.

MD: Well, that means I won’t find out if you don’t share. [Evolution remains silent.] So, what’s your method? How do you determine the course of evolution?

Evolution: I don’t decide anything. It’s like rolling dice, but instead, I’m rolling genes—nucleotide bases, if you will. Most of the time, I get nothing significant. Look at crocodiles; they haven’t changed in a hundred million years.

MD: You mean crocodiles?

Evolution: Yes, those very creatures.

MD: What accounts for their minimal change?

Evolution: Why do you ask such a silly question? Look at them! They’re magnificent. Ever seen one ambush an antelope in the water? Pure artistry! Sometimes I look at my creations and think they’re just perfect. Other times, I feel compelled to add a little flair. And don’t forget the horseshoe crab—200 million years of stability. A true aristocrat! Get it? It's got blue blood. Oh, I’m surrounded by ignoramuses.

But let’s be honest, it’s all about the environment. [She pours herself another drink.] I’m working with the resources at hand, which include everything that affects my creations—especially my cherished algae. It all begins with them and the great sun. Alfred Russel Wallace was the one who figured out how I function—natural selection and all that jazz.

MD: Are you trying to mislead me? Wallace and Darwin came to the idea of natural selection around the same time.

Evolution: Damn it! Thought I could pull one over on you. Anyway, back to the point.

MD: About the resources you manage?

Evolution: Exactly! The planet's surface is my stage. A few meters above for flying creatures and thousands of meters deep for aquatic ones. But that’s a tiny fraction compared to Earth as a whole. [She seems to drift off momentarily.] Sorry, got sidetracked. The point is, when I roll the genetic dice, there are plenty of losers, like in gambling. Those losers die off, early or late, but they don't reproduce. Most of the time, it’s not even my partner, Ms. Environment, calling the shots. It’s the genes making their own mistakes. You know, crossover during meiosis and all that. Look it up. I don’t control it; I just let the dice fall where they may.

MD: Even the platypus?

Evolution: Well, I deserve that. Yes, even the platypus. I provide the genes with numerous combinations, but ultimately, I let the game play out. But for you humans with your limited perspectives, you only notice the survivors, those who reproduce. That’s the reality. Sure, no one cares about the ones that don’t make it. I mean, I don’t care, but it’s crucial to recognize the immense trial and error—mostly error. Yet, one can appreciate how efficiently the ecosystem manages the losers. They become sustenance for others. Fungi fun!

MD: But winners die too and contribute to the decomposers. I want…

Evolution: Oh, you think you’re clever, huh? Yes, winners perish too. Boo-hoo. And then there are parasites. I love a good horror story! Every creature has parasites feeding on them, both inside and out. Think about it: every organism with a stomach hosts an ecosystem. It’s not just about digesting food; it's a continuous battle. Some of those little pests consume the food, while others feast on each other. It’s chaos in there!

Even on your skin, countless mites reside in your pores. And those are just the larger ones! There are viruses, bacteria, and fungi living on and inside you—far more than your own cells. Your skin acts like a living, fertile soil. I know I’m just rolling the dice, but I can’t resist taking some credit for this beautiful creation.

MD: Technically, the competition in the microbiome isn’t entirely about parasitism, is it?

Evolution: Oooooooh. Technically, you’re a nuisance.

MD: Fine, my next…

Evolution: And let’s not forget luck. If you’re a nematode on a blade of grass and a cow munches it, that doesn’t mean you were less fit than the others. You just had bad luck. We haven’t even touched on the worms, springtails, and microbes crawling around. Every time a creature walks or eats, millions of these tiny beings perish. But I say that with affection.

So all this talk of natural selection is significant, but there’s so much more happening. Fish and many of my lovely invertebrates in the ocean release hundreds or thousands of eggs as a gamble. Most get eaten, and it has nothing to do with fitness or survival. It’s just a numbers game. Think about the birds picking off baby turtles on the shore. You see my point? It’s all about luck, not adaptation or fitness.

[Evolution pauses, taking a deep breath, then gulps from the bottle.] You've really got me worked up.

MD: Maybe you should cut back on the drinks.

Evolution: Screw you! Don’t dictate my behavior.

MD: I apologize. I just want to continue our interview.

Evolution: I’m not discussing the interview; I’m addressing yo