Is this our last chance?
I read the book “Last Chance To See“, sometime in 1990 or 1991. Douglas Adams and Mark Carwardine wrote the book, which was a spin-off from a radio documentary series they produced in 1989.
I absolutely adored everything that Douglas Adams wrote. The first book I ever read for enjoyment was “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy“. I devoured that book in a few hours one day. As evening fell and the stores had closed their doors for the day, I reread the book. So I purchased “The Restaurant at the End of the Universe“, “Life, the Universe and Everything” and “So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish” the following day. I have read the increasingly inaccurately named Hitchhiker’s Trilogy dozens of times in the intervening decades.
Adams was an author whose books I was always eager to buy. When I came across Last Chance, it was a different beast to his usual fare. It being a documentary, rather than fiction. However, Adams’ humourous writing was at it’s best throughout this excellent book. And it was a very interesting look at various species that were in danger of extinction. But to me it was Adam’s epilogue that hit me the hardest. This is it.
SIFTING THROUGH THE EMBERS
THERE’S A STORY I HEARD when I was young that bothered me because I couldn’t understand it. It was many years before I discovered it to be the story of the Sybilline books. By that time all the details of the story had rewritten themselves in my mind, but the essentials were still the same. After a year of exploring some of the endangered environments of the world, I think I finally understand it.
It concerns an ancient city – it doesn’t matter where it was or what it was called. It was a thriving, prosperous city set in the middle of a large plain. One summer, while the people of the city were busy thriving and prospering away, a strange old beggar woman arrived at the gates carrying twelve large books, which she offered to sell to them. She said that the books contained all the knowledge and all the wisdom of the world, and that she would let the city have all twelve of them in return for a single sack of gold.
The people of the city thought this was a very funny idea. They said she obviously had no conception of the value of gold and that probably the best thing was for her to go away again.
This she agreed to do, but first she said she was going to destroy half of the books in front of them. She built a small bonfire, burnt six of the books of all knowledge and all wisdom in the sight of the people of the city, and then went on her way.
Winter came and went, a hard winter, but the city just about managed to flourish through it and then, the following summer, the old woman was back.
“Oh, you again,” said the people of the city. “How’s the knowledge and wisdom going?”
“Six books,” she said, “just six left. Half of all the knowledge and wisdom in the world. Once again I am offering to sell them to you.”
“Oh yes?” sniggered the people of the city.
“Only the price has changed.”
“Not surprised.”
“Two sacks of gold.”
“What?”
“Two sacks of gold for the six remaining books of knowledge and wisdom. Take it or leave it.”
“It seems to us,” said the people of the city, “that you can’t be very wise or knowledgeable yourself or you would realise that you can’t just go around quadrupling an already outrageous price in a buyer’s market. If that’s the sort of knowledge and wisdom you’re peddling, then, frankly, you can keep it at any price.”
“Do you want them or not?”
“No.”
“Very well. I will trouble you for a little firewood.” She built another bonfire and burnt three of the remaining books in front of them and then set off back across the plain.
That night one or two curious people from the city sneaked out and sifted through the embers to see if they could salvage the odd page or two, but the fire had burnt very thoroughly and the old woman had raked the ashes. There was nothing.
Another hard winter took its toll on the city and they had a little trouble with famine and disease, but trade was good and they were in reasonably good shape again by the following summer when, once again, the old woman appeared.
“You’re early this year,” they said to her.
“Less to carry,” she explained, showing them the three books she was still carrying. “A quarter of all the knowledge and wisdom in the world. Do you want it?”
“What’s the price?”
“Four sacks of gold.”
“You’re completely mad, old woman. Apart from anything else, our economy’s going through a bit of a sticky patch at the moment. Sacks of gold are completely out of the question.”
“Firewood, please.”
“Now wait a minute,” said the people of the city, “this isn’t doing anybody any good. We’ve been thinking about all this and we’ve put together a small committee to have a look at these books of yours. Let us evaluate them for a few months, see if they’re worth anything to us, and when you come back next year, perhaps we can put in some kind of a reasonable offer. We are not talking sacks of gold here, though.”
The old woman shook her head. “No,” she said. “Bring me the firewood.”
“It’ll cost you.”
“No matter,” said the woman, with a shrug. “The books will burn quite well by themselves.”
So saying, she set about shredding two of the books into pieces which then burnt easily. She set off swiftly across the plain and left the people of the city to face another year.
She was back in the late spring.
“Just the one left,” she said, putting it down on the ground in front of her. “So I was able to bring my own firewood.”
“How much?” said the people of the city.
“Sixteen sacks of gold.”
“We’d only budgeted for eight.”
“Take it or leave it.”
“Wait here.”
The people of the city went off into a huddle and returned half an hour later.
“Sixteen sacks is all we’ve got left,” they pleaded, “times are hard. You must leave us with something.”
The old woman just hummed to herself as she started to pile the kindling together.
“All right!” they cried at last, opened up the gates of the city, and led out two ox carts, each laden with eight sacks of gold. “But it had better be good.”
“Thank you,” said the old woman, “it is. And you should have seen the rest of it.”
She led the two ox carts away across the plain with her, and left the people of the city to survive as best they could with the one remaining twelfth of all the knowledge and wisdom that had been in the world.
Douglas Adams – Last Chance to See
I have had this impending doom type feeling in the last few years. There have been a lot of major distractions going on (e.g.- COVID19, the war in Ukraine, etc.). We are failing to take adequate action to address the worsening climate crisis.
There’s a climate conference going on in an oil producing nation, of all fucking places, right now. Thousands of attendees flying in from virtually every country. They are doing more harm with their travel than with anything that will likely arise out from the conference.
What I really fear is that we are basically allowing the books of all knowledge and all wisdom to be burned and we are really on our last chance.