I am sentient space dust. We’ve been orbiting the ongoing fusion chain reaction at the bottom of our local gravity well here for around 4 billion years, quietly evolving under a convenient little magnetic safety blanket. It lets in just enough radiation to keep us warm and throw a bit of randomness into the process of our reproduction; what we call life.
Due to the arrow of time, we tend to view life hierarchically, but there’s enough horizontal gene transfer going on here to make a pretty solid argument in favour of the idea that our little pebble is covered by a giant single DNA based organism.
My particular reproductive group thinks it’s special, but doesn’t seem to have a solid grasp of history or the scale of this universe.
Thankfully the primary method of generational information transfer is sexual, which means we get an opposite gender to keep things interesting.
We also have this thing called culture, which is just the stuff we do to keep ourselves occupied. It ranges from the absurd to the profound, but what do you expect, being stuck on this rock.
It’s taken on a life of its own, culture, but seems to be following the same kinds of rules as biological reproduction, in that a whole bunch of material gets spewed out and a lot of it gets left by the wayside, but every once in a while, two things click and a new thought is born.