I often catch myself wondering how different our art, our literature, our techniques, our architecture, our science, and all our so-called achievements would be if, at some point in history—say, right after the late Middle Ages—everything humanity had created were wiped out so thoroughly that no one could even recall what a wheel looked like. A world where no one knew whether the Venus de Milo had been a place, a painting, a wine, a poem, or perhaps an ancient weapon. And where “democracy” or “monarchy” might just as well be fireworks or seasonal mushrooms.
As for me, I suspect that the evolution of such a world would feel strangely familiar while being completely different, a kind of cosmic déjà vu. Everything reinvented, yet uncannily the same. Worn-out ideas would return with fresh paint, old opinions would resurface disguised as revelations, eccentric religions would bloom—new in appearance, ancient in essence—and intolerance would simply find new masks. I don’t imagine this world as a better one. No, not that… just the same stage with new props, perhaps a bit more entertaining.
After all, when the dinosaurs vanished in an instant, life went on—and brought forth creatures no less terrifying. Take humans, for example.
But what do you think?
