Woolly Mammoth
Dear Maura,
Do not resurrect the woolly mammoth.
I keep track of you, I keep track of the news, and I know that you conceivably could do so soon, but for your own sake: do not resurrect the woolly mammoth.
I understand that scientists are more aware of the ethics of these sorts of things than English teachers, and I understand that career advice is best received from someone in the same line of work, and I understand that even then, advice is best received when solicited (which this is not), but even so, here I am.
Given that this is your line of work, I’m sure you know more than I do what a woolly mammoth’s life might have been like, and that in all reality the only thing I am qualified to know about them is how many L’s are in woolly.
But even so.
In general, I am in favor of cloning and the like—we’ve talked about this. We talked, at John’s that night after organic chemistry, about cloning and progress, but this is a different animal entirely. Because Maura, you forget that I know you.
I remember your mother on the phone, telling you that you would always be unloved and alone because of what you chose to be. I remember the stares that followed you even in a liberal college, and I remember the way I walked into your room with Chinese takeout one night to find you crying. You asked me if it was ever possible to stop feeling guilty for being yourself.
And for all of those reasons, I ask you not to resurrect the woolly mammoth.
I’m sure you know this already, but we killed them. Their environment was dying as the glaciers did, and we hunted them to extinction. And perhaps now we would not, perhaps humanity would value their un-extinction as too valuable to hunt.
But I think we both know that is too much to hope for.
I think we both know that the nature of humanity has not changed, that without an environment safe from us, they would be gone again soon.
Because Maura, when we bring to life the things we know cannot live, all we are trying to do is prove that we can. You are trying to prove that a woman like yourself can be beloved as a scientist, by bringing to life a species you know full well is doomed to fail.
I am not saying your quest to be loved is a doomed one, no. But the battles you are choosing to win that war are doomed ones, ones you will fail no matter your immediate success.
What I have seen though, what I have watched through twenty years and thousands of students, is that anyone trying to prove their right to exist wants to bring doomed beings into creation. They are Frankenstein, trying to survive and being twisted into monsters by anyone who watches. An English teacher knows this much.
And perhaps this is too pessimistic, but I am exhausted of watching people create and then see their creations destroyed. Maura, I cannot bear that for you too.
I do not want you to have to prove that a woolly mammoth can exist to know that you can too, and because I know it cannot, I beg you not to try. I do not want you to have to bear its second extinction, I do not want you to have to bear watching your own hope die in proxy.
It is of course, possible that I am wrong. Mammoths would be kept in captivity, protected, but I know this is not your dream for them. I know you will look into their eyes and see failure reflected back, and I do not want that for you.
Maura, we have scorched the earth on which woolly mammoths walked, they have gone. Bringing them back will not mean that was not done, it will only mean that eventually, it will happen again. But you are still here, brilliant and queer and beautiful, walking scorched earth as if it were lush grass.
You are existing, you are not extinct. That is all the proof you need of your own worthiness.
Your friend, Harry - Andy Stowers