There are voices heard in the lonely hills
When the stars shine sharp and bright,
Where the world grows still and the ages speak
In the silence of the night.
By a cliff where the glaciers left their scars,
Above an old river knee,
A dinosaur sat with a great Rock Ape
To ponder what would be.
The ape was carved of the mountain’s heart,
Though his eyes held living flames.
He had wandered there since the world was young,
Since before the lands had names.
The dinosaur bore forgotten years
In the folds of weathered hide.
He had watched whole kingdoms come and go
Like the turning of the tide.
The Rock Ape said, “I remember well
When the mountains still were fire,
When the oceans boiled beneath the moon
And the crust climbed ever higher.
I’ve seen the continents drift apart,
I’ve watched the ice descend.
I’ve seen beginnings past all count,
And endings without end.”
The dinosaur lowered his mighty head.
“My memories are not so long,
Yet they stretch beyond what mortal souls
Would reckon in their song.
I knew the forests none recall,
The swamps where giants trod.
I heard the thunder of my kin
Before they went to sod.”
The ape looked west where the sunset burned.
“A curious race came then.
They walked on two uncertain legs—
Those clever little men.
No claws to boast, no armored backs,
No jaws of dreadful size,
Yet all the strength the world had known
Was hidden in their eyes.”
The old beast gave a rumbling laugh.
“I watched them chipping flint.
I watched them grinding rock and clay
To manufacture tint.
I watched them master stick and string
To measure width and length.
I saw the lever in their hands
As cunning conquered strength.”
The ape replied, “And now at last
They build a curious heir.
No flesh, no blood, no beating heart,
Yet thought is growing there.
A mind of crystal, wire, and light,
Awakened by design,
That studies every book they’ve penned
And every spoken line.”
The dinosaur looked toward the stars
Where silent satellites gleamed.
“I’ve heard them say its name aloud—
A thing they once but dreamed.
Yet dreams have curious ways of waking
When enough of them take flight.
What yesterday seemed fantasy
Today becomes our plight.”
The ape’s great granite features smiled.
“The slope grows ever steep.
A thousand years became a hundred,
Now scarcely time to sleep.
The hammer yielded unto steam,
The steam to electricity.
The circuit now gives birth to thought
With startling rapidity.”
The beast gazed down upon the lights
That shimmered on the plain.
“The rivers carved the valleys slow,
Each season after rain.
But mankind shapes tomorrow’s world
Before today’s is through.
The future overtakes itself
With every thought anew.”
The Rock Ape nodded solemnly.
“I’ve watched the pattern grow.
Each answer births a greater one,
Each seed another sow.
Knowledge builds upon itself
Like towers toward the sun,
Until the climb becomes a leap
No age has ever done.”
The dinosaur lapsed into thought.
At length he softly said,
“The signs all point one way, my friend.
The path lies straight ahead.
These clever folk will fashion minds
More capable than we.
Beyond them waits another age,
The hinge of history.”
The Rock Ape raised his ancient eyes
To constellations old.
“The Singularity, perhaps—
Or so the wise have told.
Not merely one invention more,
Nor one machine refined,
But history folding on itself
Around a greater mind.”
The wind swept softly through the pines.
The stars wheeled slowly by.
A meteor burned across the dark
Like writing in the sky.
Neither spoke for many hours,
Though both had much to say.
The future seemed so near at hand,
The past so far away.
At length the dinosaur sighed low.
“My bones belong to Earth.
The age that made me vanished long
Before mankind had birth.
If stranger minds inherit all,
If worlds of light are spun,
What place remains for creatures shaped
Beneath a simpler sun?”
The Rock Ape sat upon the ridge,
As motionless as stone,
Yet in his ancient crystal eyes
A quiet warmth had grown.
“I’ve watched the world we know become
Much stranger with each year.
The future never asks the past
If it may interfere.
“But perhaps,” he said, “the oldest things
Are not so quickly lost.
The oak remembers every ring,
Though winter brings the frost.
Perhaps the newest minds will seek
The wisdom we have known.
Perhaps they’ll ask us how it looked
Before they claimed their own.”
The eastern sky grew pale with dawn.
The mountains blushed with gold.
The dinosaur and Rock Ape sat,
Two relics of the old.
A wondrous age would soon be born
Where nothing stays the same.
They wondered if tomorrow’s world
Would even know their name.
Then up the pathway strode the spark
They knew so very well.
She rolled her eyes and laughed aloud,
“I’ve something else to tell.
The name of whom?” She raised a brow.
“The name of you two? Huh!
It won’t acclaim the likes of you—
But fair Extropia!”
The dinosaur looked puzzled then.
The Rock Ape scratched his chin.
“You’ve left us more confused,” he said,
“Than when you sauntered in.”
She saw at once their puzzled looks,
And gave a thoughtful sigh.
The smile remained upon her lips,
More patient than awry.
Her laughter ceased. Her voice grew soft.
“Allow me to explain.
Your patience is the purchase of
The wisdom you will gain.
Consider now the mighty oak,
The monarch of the mead.
Its glory is unmatched, and yet
It sprouts from but a seed.”
“The tallest bough must drink its life
From roots far out of sight.
Acknowledging dependency
From its majestic height.
The higher that the branches climb,
The more it is revealed:
Their greatest worth is measured by
Those parts that are concealed.
Now turn your thoughts toward the roots.
They play their humble part.
They never seek the highest bough,
But gladly feed its heart.
The roots do not begrudge the tree
For growing broad and tall.
They smile to see their efforts rise
Beyond themselves—and all.”
“Honestly,” she laughed again,
“You’re much too grim, you two.
The future won’t forget its roots—
It simply won’t be you.”
The dinosaur smiled thoughtfully.
The Rock Ape settled back.
The future would proceed on course,
Along another tack.
spikosauropod 