world hunger or finding the cure for cancer. I think, deep down, everyone wants there to be more; anything more.”
She stirred her chili for a moment, looking at it. Looking up at Evans she asked, “What do you think? And don’t give me some vague clinical bullshit. What do you really think?”
Evans sighed. “There’s probably life out there somewhere in the universe. It’s just so incomprehensibly vast. When we really consider the idea that even if our planet is the only one in our entire galaxy capable of supporting life, there are still billions of other galaxies out there. Billions upon billions. Think about it. Even if just one galaxy in one hundred million had a planet that could support life, that means there are still countless homes for life elsewhere in the universe.”
Mitchell soaked this in, stirring her chilly some more. Evans chuckled lightly and shook his head. “Now, whether or not life on any of those planets ever evolved to a state of intelligence is another question. But I guess it’s possible. I’m not a biologist. Just a neuroscientist turned psychiatrist.”
“So there has to be life out there,” Mitchell pushed.
“Sure seems like it, right?” He shrugged. “But, one thing is for sure. We have never, nor will we ever, make contact with any such life forms.”
“Never?” she raised her eyebrows.
“Our galaxy is something like one hundred thousand light years or more in diameter. That means all of the stars at the other end of the galaxy could blow up right now. We wouldn’t know for another hundred thousand years or so. That’s information traveling at the speed of light. If Einstein was right, nothing can travel faster than the speed of light. That means that unless there’s life very, very close by in our galaxy—like really close—it’s just impossible that they would ever be able to reach us, or us them.”
Mitchell smiled, and for a brief moment he thought he saw a twinge of sadness in her eyes—or was he projecting his own feelings on her?
“Well, fuck! When you put it that way …” She laughed. "Guess we are all alone. Even if there is life out there."
She ate more chilly, thinking. “Then what explains all of these UFO stories?” she asked.
Evans considered this, then said, “I think you nailed it. We all want to believe there’s more to our existence here."
“So UFOs are ... what?” she asked. “Just another form of religion?”
“For many, it occupies the same psychological and emotional space.”
Mitchell frowned, seeming unsure of how to take this. Evans pushed aside his plate that still had fries on it; he suddenly didn’t feel so hungry. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good conversation like this, particularly with a woman—though he cautioned himself on thinking along those lines too much. He leaned forward.
“Think of it this way,” he said. “We cannot escape our perception of reality, so we constantly run the risk of confusing our interpretations of reality with how the universe really works. We experience things we cannot explain, and we filter them through our past experiences in order to make sense of them. For some people, when the mind is deeply traumatized, their filters become skewed. It distorts everything they experience. But the problem is that, while you and I might understand that their perception is skewed, for them, what they experience is quite true, at least on an emotive and experiential level … a primal level, you might say.”
“Makes sense,” she said and ate more chili.
“You’re not convinced, though.” Evans sat back.
“Not yet,” she admitted with a slight smirk. She looked up suddenly. “Hey, what’s the deal with the crucifix?”
Evans repressed a slight laugh. Had he gotten too close to something? Why the sudden change in subject? He reminded himself that things were different now. She’s not your patient, don’t treat her like one.
“My mom gave it to me,” he
She stirred her chili for a moment, looking at it. Looking up at Evans she asked, “What do you think? And don’t give me some vague clinical bullshit. What do you really think?”
Evans sighed. “There’s probably life out there somewhere in the universe. It’s just so incomprehensibly vast. When we really consider the idea that even if our planet is the only one in our entire galaxy capable of supporting life, there are still billions of other galaxies out there. Billions upon billions. Think about it. Even if just one galaxy in one hundred million had a planet that could support life, that means there are still countless homes for life elsewhere in the universe.”
Mitchell soaked this in, stirring her chilly some more. Evans chuckled lightly and shook his head. “Now, whether or not life on any of those planets ever evolved to a state of intelligence is another question. But I guess it’s possible. I’m not a biologist. Just a neuroscientist turned psychiatrist.”
“So there has to be life out there,” Mitchell pushed.
“Sure seems like it, right?” He shrugged. “But, one thing is for sure. We have never, nor will we ever, make contact with any such life forms.”
“Never?” she raised her eyebrows.
“Our galaxy is something like one hundred thousand light years or more in diameter. That means all of the stars at the other end of the galaxy could blow up right now. We wouldn’t know for another hundred thousand years or so. That’s information traveling at the speed of light. If Einstein was right, nothing can travel faster than the speed of light. That means that unless there’s life very, very close by in our galaxy—like really close—it’s just impossible that they would ever be able to reach us, or us them.”
Mitchell smiled, and for a brief moment he thought he saw a twinge of sadness in her eyes—or was he projecting his own feelings on her?
“Well, fuck! When you put it that way …” She laughed. "Guess we are all alone. Even if there is life out there."
She ate more chilly, thinking. “Then what explains all of these UFO stories?” she asked.
Evans considered this, then said, “I think you nailed it. We all want to believe there’s more to our existence here."
“So UFOs are ... what?” she asked. “Just another form of religion?”
“For many, it occupies the same psychological and emotional space.”
Mitchell frowned, seeming unsure of how to take this. Evans pushed aside his plate that still had fries on it; he suddenly didn’t feel so hungry. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good conversation like this, particularly with a woman—though he cautioned himself on thinking along those lines too much. He leaned forward.
“Think of it this way,” he said. “We cannot escape our perception of reality, so we constantly run the risk of confusing our interpretations of reality with how the universe really works. We experience things we cannot explain, and we filter them through our past experiences in order to make sense of them. For some people, when the mind is deeply traumatized, their filters become skewed. It distorts everything they experience. But the problem is that, while you and I might understand that their perception is skewed, for them, what they experience is quite true, at least on an emotive and experiential level … a primal level, you might say.”
“Makes sense,” she said and ate more chili.
“You’re not convinced, though.” Evans sat back.
“Not yet,” she admitted with a slight smirk. She looked up suddenly. “Hey, what’s the deal with the crucifix?”
Evans repressed a slight laugh. Had he gotten too close to something? Why the sudden change in subject? He reminded himself that things were different now. She’s not your patient, don’t treat her like one.
“My mom gave it to me,” he
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