I was sitting in the picture window at the Rockway dinner, eating blueberry pancakes. I saw outside, on the sticky, broken asphalt three small feathers, two long as from wings, and one comma curl of down. I saw them as pieces of a fathomless machine, of an alien technology.
Feathers are not alien technology. They are the technology that comes from millions of years of genetics, trying to get is just right, so that the bird can do amazing swoops and glides, dives and loops. This technology works on the level of proteins and nucleic acids, where changes of a simple atom can make all the difference. It's awe-inspiring, and elegantly simple, as well as vastly complex, all in one. I know there's a reason I left the field, but for the moment, I can't remember it. Thank you.