Nine Billion Names God Essay

Nine Billion Names God Essay-80
The matter-of-fact description of the marvelous of H. Wells, the poetic evocation of unknown places of Lord Dunsany, and the immense vistas of space and time of the philosopher Olaf Stapledon lie cheek-by-jowl with artificial suspense devices, awkward sentimentality, schoolboy silliness, and melodramatic manipulation of such hoary motifs as the “stranded astronaut” or the “end of the world” in his less distinguished fiction.At its best, however, Clarke’s work shows glimpses of man’s rise to interplanetary civilization or evokes the wonder, in suitably subdued tones, of his confrontation with extraterrestrial intelligences.With a million years between visits, they had been taken by surprise by man’s rise to civilization in two-fifths of that time, signaled by radio waves detected two hundred light years away.

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From such homey touches, he led the climb to “Wilson’s Folly,” a plateau artificially leveled for a twelve-foot crystal pyramid “machine.” Its force field gave way, after twenty years of frustrated investigation, to an atomic assault which reduced the mystery to fragments.

The rest of the story is speculation, successive stages of Wilson’s inferences.

They buy a computer that will reduce this process from 1500 years to 1000 days, as well as two engineers to make sure the computer runs smoothly.

The engineers discover that once the list is complete the world will end. Not because the world will end, but because they’re afraid how the monks will react when they discover they were wrong.

Over this time, people forget the secret location and Master revives millions of years later, only to find himself surrounded by insects.

He understands that insects won the war over man and are now ruling the world. "The Nine Billion Names of God" This is a story about a group of Tibetan Monks compiling a list of every possible name of God, in hopes of fulfilling God's purpose.i met a man with a typewriter in the middle of the street & he had a little stool & a little table where his old remington filled with five by seven sheets of thin paper sat & he was offering poems on any subject you would request & so i introduced myself & asked for a poem about saint louis because it is the city that birthed me & i am in love with him & i have to leave him for college which frightens me the same way any major change will frighten folks: in waves & i had recently been thinking about that change so when i needed a subject really there was no other option & we talked a little because he wanted to be sure my poem was good & when asked what my major was i told him english & he chuckled in that way you do when you have made the same mistake you can see someone else get ready to make but he seemed happy with his english degree & street poetry & if he was not happy he definitely seemed like he was at least flourishing ( which is more important if we are not lying to ourselves ) & when he had enough information he asked for five to ten minutes to piece something together & on royal street it is not hard to find ways to pass the time & i walked maybe twenty feet to a scattered bazaar of artists demonstrating their craft & working to survive like the rest of us & i bought a small plaque so that i can affix it to the wall because i do not want to forget new orleans & because dorms can feel like prisons without any life pumped onto the walls & i admired it as my new poet friend clicked away & when he was done we talked about poetry & we talked about art & we talked about english & that was all out loud because in the poem he wrote about moving on & not wanting to & he wrote about love & it is the type of love for a place that is true no matter what place you may come from / where sometimes it does not feel like love at all & sometimes you do not love it all but it is still your most important love & hate it as you may nothing can change your relationship & deep down we do not want that relationship to end & it is one of the reasons i am coming back to saint louis after college but this is not an essay about coming home or where you are from this is an essay about survival & love & there is not any singular way to love / which is phenomenal news for a universe as vast as our own & what is love is an irrelevant distinction / because what love entails is quite normally the same ( albeit with different lenses ) & i create & though i may say i create for numerous reasons / it all stems truthfully from love & this is true of most all creation & it was certainly true of the second hand string band which was on royal street as well & they were playing down by the riverside ( study war no more ) which i had listened to a couple of times on the car ride south into new orleans & i like that song not only because i like pete seeger but because i like what is being sung – I am gonna lay down my sword & shield / down by the riverside / study war no more – it is a call for peace but it is also a rejection of the world we live in & our history is marked by war & violence & we have entire spaces dedicated to the antebellum or the post war / which is all well & good but where do we exist outside of warfare?& the world we live in unfortunately does not give us many options & down by the riverside is a prayer for a world that can be / not the world as it is & i got a tarot card reading outside the front façade of saint louis cathedral & the whole time i wondered how jesus felt or if he even cared that i was doing this in front of a space built for him / but i’m a religious pluralist & all faiths are valid & so jesus can disagree if he so pleases & ( hypocritically i suppose ) i sometimes doubt the validity of tarot & it was only fitting i suppose for the cards i pulled to be weirdly accurate ( more so than just randomness ought to allow ) but even if it was random / even if the woman who told me how to interpret the cards was making everything up / there is absolutely something valid in the underlying message she was telling me: this too shall pass & peace is on its way & success will come but it may not be so easy to achieve which is a thread that can be found in effectively every religion from hinduism to satanism & arthur c clarke wrote a short story with a group of monks who wanted to record every possible name of god & they estimated roughly nine billion names & i like to agree with those fictitious monks because how wonderful a thing to have that is so all encompassing you need nine billion names for it & i have had a weird relationship with god / as have most of the people i know & some of them reconciled & some did not & it is not my place to comment on their journeys but i am entitled to reflect & comment on my own & we live in a world that wants to be very specific / to use precise language for imprecise phenomena & there is a tendency to separate truths of the universe & of the earth & of ourselves which makes sense but there is something more there & we live in a world made of a hyperconnected web of life & why do we try to fight our dependency on it?Although the story creaks in places—contemporary theory says the sun cannot become a nova, vacuum tubes are outmoded, helicopters never did become the wave of the future—those details can be sacrificed for the sake of the fable.The primary forecasts of space travel and posturban civilization should not be discounted, at the risk of being as naïve and complacent as the aliens, without even their limited security in their own superiority.His father showed him the earth from moon’s surface and told him that earth was destroyed in a nuclear war.The people living on moon have the goal to restore earth now as they are the last of human race.Exposed in his childhood to both the pulp magazines of Hugo Gernsback and the English literary tradition of fantasy and science fiction, Arthur C.Clarke sometimes forged an uneasy alliance between the two in his own stories."The Awakening" The Master is given less than a year to live after he suffers from heart failure.He is frozen and kept at a secret place for a hundred years.


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