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The world was once wondrous. As a boy I remember mounting the stairs
that led to the legendary Harvard Medical School. The huge granite slabs
were worn by past generations of scientists. Here, I fancied, the
greatest minds on the planet busied themselves around electron
microscopes and ultra-centrifuges, working in their laboratories on
secret experiments. But I’m older now, and my colleagues tell me we’re
just the activity of carbon and some proteins; we live awhile and die.
And the universe?
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