Ancient Flora Revivals: Or, Be Nice to Scientists

This is a sad day for humankind. A sad, sad day, for all of us. Why? Because we have taken one step closer to creating a real-life Jurassic Park. A group of scientists have regrown an Ice Age plant. From seeds, frozen in the Siberian tundra almost 32,000 years ago, they have given a long-dead plant life. Something once thought impossible. They did it. They freakin' did it. Right now they say the technology is only capable of recreating plants, but come on, if you had the ability to bring back extinct life you'd probably keep that under wraps as well. What makes you think they'll stop at plants, though? Why would they hold themselves back from exploring all their options? Soon they could be doing bugs, and then small annoying rodents, and then tigers, and then mammoths and th- DINOSAURS. IT'S GONNA BE DINOSAURS, AND THEY'RE GONNA BE BIG, AND WE'RE ALL GONNA LIVE IN JURASSIC PARK AND OH GOD SO MUCH DINOSAUR. WE'RE DOOMED.


Well, alright. That might be a bit of a jump. Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself a little bit...not really, actually. Hear me out on this one. Sure, we can all hope that the mad angst-ridden scientists, who put their lives -- children, wives, bedrooms in their mothers' basements -- on hold to work on defrosting an ancient plant, won't mentally snap over something petty, like losing their top spot in Battlefield 3. We are more than allowed to hope. But who are we kidding? These people, though a vital part of our society, aren't exactly what you would call social creatures. There's a reason they work in labs all day, sequestered from the rest of humanity, choosing long-dead flowers over regular human interaction. Their idea of friendship is eating their bag lunches at the same table as other scientists more than once a week. I think it's fair to say that their grasp of emotional standards is lacking. So what if one (let's call him Dr. Bob) is pushed over the line by some event that a normal human would shrug off, and as revenge sets a dinosaur on the world? What if Dr Bob, who's very proud of his gaming ability, decides that that 13-year old, the really douche-y one who called him a fag after his third consecutive "Domination," needs to be shown who's the REAL fag around here and sends a velociraptor to his house? He's got the genetic material, he's got the scientific capabilities, he has the motivation. No one cares about their projects enough to double-check that they're not recreating giant reptiles instead of plants. It happens in movies all the time. Much like the plot of Apollo 13, who's to say it can't actually happen in real life?

How did Tom Hanks know what would happen?!

Now, I'm not saying this is likely. I'm not saying it's even probable. I'm simply saying that we should be aware of this possibility and plan accordingly. And to answer your next question, yes, what I'm saying is that in order to stop the movie Jurassic Park, as well as its sequels, from actually happening, we need to outlaw all video-game players who are assholes. Unfortunately, this is impossible, because everyone who plays video-games is an asshole. But that is a subject for another time.  Then what are our alternatives? If we can't kick every "l33tn00bpwn3r69" off Call of Duty's online multiplayer, how else can we prevent this? How do we ensure that Michael Crichton never gets a postmortem "told you so" moment? How will we keep away the dinosaurs?!

The answer is surprisingly simple. The core of our problem is that scientists, on a whole, have short tempers. There's no way of knowing which insignificant event will set them off and turn them from mild-mannered social outcasts with a proclivity for pocket protectors and bad jokes about quarks into vengeful T-Rex-riding maniacs bent on destroying the life of all who hath wronged them. Which is, of course, everybody. The best solution I can think of -- and I thought of some really good ones, trust me -- is for all of us to be friendlier to them. It's hard, I know, especially when they run so pitifully from natural light; but anything you can do to act nicer towards them could be the deed that makes him decide not to go put Ankylosaurus DNA in a petri dish.

Or, he could already be bonkers, but don't think about that.

Next time you see a sad scientist, give him a hug: you just might give humanity one more dinosaur-free day. And that, my friends, is the sweetest gift of all.