“I don’t think so.”
“Einstein was troubled by the apparent randomness of the universe and came to believe that there had to be some underlying, hidden law to explain why what appeared to be random actually wasn’t. Most of his thinking had to do with particles and things like that. But it still begs the question: does God play dice?”
“When you say dice are you talking about chance?”
“Yes, exactly.” Neely nodded. “Regardless of a person’s fundamental religious belief, if we step back and ask ourselves that question, most people have to acknowledge that the answer is yes. At least to a large extent.”
Alison looked confused and put her own cup down. “I’m not sure I’m following.”
“Okay, look. Let’s say half the population believes that life is designed, while the other half believes it simply evolves. Evolution being the randomness, or chance, that Einstein struggled with.”
“Okay.”
“So here’s the rub. If I didn’t believe the world was created by chance, then why does the entire planet currently operate on chance, including virtually every form of life on it?”
“Life runs on chance?”
“Yes! Think about it. Each tree, plant, and even grass all release millions of seeds and billions of pollen over their lifetime in the hope of reproducing, or spreading. This happens every day all over the planet. Animals and insects do the same. Even with humans, females produce hundreds of eggs and males produce billions of sperm, all for the chance of reproduction. It’s the same everywhere to varying degrees. Almost all life on planet Earth operates under the rules of chance.”
Alison stared at Neely. “Wow!”
“Right? Anyway, I didn’t bring that up to get on a soapbox. I personally believe in God, but I think there are some big gaps in the explanation. Those who believe in intelligent design might argue the chance factor was part of the design, which is a valid point. What I’m trying to say is this: when you consider the sheer magnitude chance plays in our world, and the genetic cross-pollination that’s been going on for millions of years, is it any surprise that much of our DNA is the same?”
“Well, humans had to start somewhere, right?”
“I don’t just mean humans, Alison. I mean ALL life. All life on the planet shares a LOT of DNA.”
Alison nodded. “Like humans and primates.”
“Correct. But the genetic picture is even bigger. Our closest DNA relative is the chimpanzee. Did you know that of the three billion basepairs in the human genome, we share 99% of those with chimpanzees?”
“Wow. I didn’t know it was that high.”
“Most people don’t. But this is where it gets interesting. We also share 97% of our DNA with all other apes, and we share 93% with mice.”
“Mice?!”
Neely nodded. “Mice. And if you keep going down the line, you’ll find that we share over 50% of our DNA with a banana.”
Alison’s eyes widened. “What? That can’t be right.”
“It is,” Neely smiled. “Now stay with me. I’m about to explain why I started this. If life’s reproduction processes operate by mathematical chance, and its DNA is like a giant tree branching out over the planet for millions of years, leading us to now share much of what we are genetically…then how different do you think we really are from dolphins?”
Alison eased herself back into the chair with eyes still fixed on Neely.
“Alison, Sally said we used to be able to communicate. And while I initially dismissed it, looking at it from strictly a genetic standpoint, does it still seem all that impossible?”
“No.”
“No,” agreed Neely. “And here’s the kicker –– most of that shared DNA is considered junk. Strands and basepairs that have long been deactivated through evolution. And there’s no telling what they used to be used for. What if some of those billions of old genes tied into some of our cognitive communication? What if there were abilities that used to be active and we have simply evolved out of them? In other words, what if we lost the ability through evolution but dolphins didn’t?”
42
“Alison, it’s me.”
“DeeAnn?! How are you?”
DeeAnn didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “We’re okay. Even though Steve just tried to kill us. But we’re in Iquitos now.” She braced herself as the large SUV she was riding in turned a corner.
Known as the Capital of the Peruvian Amazon, the city was founded between the Amazon, Nanay, and Itaya rivers as far back as 1757 as a Spanish Jesuit deduction. Originally inhabited by Yameos and Iquito natives, the city eventually grew to be a lead city in the late eighteenth century during South America’s “rubber boom.”