All language subtitles for 93582C9E74AA5B05C16055AAD453357C_eng

We were hunters and foragers.

The frontier was everywhere.

We were bounded only by the
earth and the ocean and the sky.

The open road still softly
calls like a nearly forgotten

song of childhood.

For all our failings,
despite our limitations and

fallibilities, we humans
are capable of greatness.

How far will our nomadic
species have wandered by the

end of the next century?

And the next millennium?

Welcome back to the
shores of the cosmic ocean...

An immensity of space and time,

a vastness still
mostly uncharted.

We're bound for the possible
worlds revealed by science.

We'll take a ride on the
underground worldwide network

that no one knew was there.

I'm going to tell you a first
contact story that's true.

We'll meet some of the most
courageous people who ever lived.

And we're going to venture
into the future we can still have,

to the homes of our distant
descendants among the starts.

Science can carry us
across that vastness.

But without imagination,
we go nowhere.

Our Ship of the Imagination
is propelled by twin engines

of skepticism and wonder.

It's guided by the simple
set of rules that define science

and make it so powerful.

Test ideas by experiment
and observation.

Build on those ideas
that pass the test.

Reject the ones that fail.

Follow the evidence
wherever it leads.

and question everything.

Take these rules to heart,
and the cosmos is yours.

Come with me...

Our Ship of the
Imagination can take us

anywhere in space and time.

The cosmos is right
outside our front window.

If you want to see
the past, look down.

And if you want to
see the future, look up.

On this voyage, we are
bound for a distant galaxy.

And we'll discover how
we as a species became

explorers of the cosmos.

There. There she is.

NASA's Voyager 1.

Launched in 1977,

she is the most distant
object built by human hands.

She's done some hard
traveling since our last encounter,

logged another
billion and a half miles.

Voyager's making for
other parts of our Milky Way,

but we have another, far
more distant destination.

The cosmic ocean is
made of space and time.

You can't move in space
without also moving in time.

Our voyage will take us
a long way from home,

a little more than
a billion light-years.

We're also traveling a
billion years into the past,

to an event so violent
it will even shatter time.

Now, we're getting
close to our destination.

This is what we came for.

These two black holes were
born from the collapse of a

pair of massive stars.

And they've been doing a
gravitational tango ever since

for millions of years.

We're here for the climax.

When those two collide,
they will set off a space-time

tsunami that will stretch
and compress space

in all directions.

And it will slow
down time itself,

before speeding it up
and slowing it down again.

Gravitational...

and it will slow
down time itself...

Set off a space-time tsunami...

Stretch and compress
space in all directions a billion

light-years away.

What does an event that
took place more than a billion

light-years away
have to do with us?

Albert Einstein was the
first to understand that matter

could send ripples
across space-time.

He imagined that catastrophic
explosions of matter should

create something much
bigger than ripples, great waves,

gravitational waves.

You are seeing and
hearing me right now,

on whatever device you have,
because we figured out a way

to manipulate the
electromagnetic spectrum.

If we can learn to surf
those gravitational waves the

way we know how to ride
the electromagnetic ones,

who knows?

It's as impossible to foresee
as our world was to the

scientists who experimented
with electricity back

in the 19th century.

Cosmologists predicted
the existence of black holes.

Gravitational waves are
the first direct evidence that

black holes are real.

But they may also provide
a new way of knowing and

exploring the cosmos.

We can add it to the other
senses that science has

devised to penetrate
the great dark ocean,

all the kinds of light
we use; gamma ray,

X-ray, ultraviolet,

infrared, microwave,

radio wave and visible light.

This newest way to search
the cosmos could help us to one

day know what's happening
inside those black holes,

and the other hidden
places that make up most

of the universe.

What if we could detect the
gravitational waves that were

caused by the first
moment of creation,

the birth of the cosmos?

What if we could extend our
vision to see the whole sweep

of 14 billion years
of cosmic evolution?

So, how did we get so smart?

We know something about
the evolution of our species,

but how did the
human mind evolve?

Where did that crazy ambition
to climb the ladder to the

stars come from?

How did we become a way
for the universe to know itself?

It started over there.

The Cosmic Calendar is
a way for us to grasp the

vastness of time.

We've taken all of time,

from the birth of the
universe to this very moment,

and compressed it into
a single calendar year.

On this scale, every
month represents a little

more than a billion years.

Every day represents
nearly 40 million years.

Our own story begins
with all the other life on

our little world.

Every living thing on
Earth is descended from

a single origin.

It happened in the deep ocean
darkness on September 15,

about four billion years ago.

Within this tiny single-celled
organism was a kind of chemical ladder,

the DNA double helix.

Star stuff...

Oxygen, carbon, nitrogen...

Elements cooked in the
hearts of distant stars,

combined with hydrogen from
the Big Bang to become alive

on this little world.

Through random changes,
mutations in the genes,

some of which led to
more successful life-forms,

what we call evolution
by natural selection.

The ladder grew, adding
more and more rungs.

It took another three billion
years for life to evolve the

complexity of the plants and
animals that you could see

with the naked eye.

If the Cosmic
Calendar had holidays,

surely December 26
would be one of them.

Some time on this day,
about 200 million years ago,

the first mammals evolved.

They brought a new
feature to life on Earth:

the neocortex.

Back in the Triassic,

the odds were against her
kind, but the dinosaurs that

terrorized the
mammals went extinct.

It was the evolution of
the neocortex in small,

furtive creatures
such as this one,

that enabled their descendants
to take over the planet.

Mammals brought
something else that was new.

They suckled their young.

They nurtured them.

And there was love.

Mother's Day on
the Cosmic Calendar.

Evolution by natural selection
means that those living things

able to better adapt to their
environment are more likely to

survive and leave offspring.

Intelligence can be a
huge selective advantage.

The fate of this planet was
changed forever by an event

involving just 13 atoms.

How small is 13 atoms?

It's a quadrillionth the
size of a grain of salt.

A mutation occurred in the
DNA of just one of our ancestors.

Every source of self-esteem,
everything we've learned,

and built, might come down
to nothing more than this.

One base pair of a single gene.

Just a single rung programmed
the neocortex to grow larger

still and fold more deeply.

Maybe it was a random
zap from a cosmic ray,

or a simple error in transmission
from one cell to another.

Whatever it was, it led to a
change in our species that

would ultimately affect
every other species

of life on Earth.

It happened late on
New Year's Eve on this

Cosmic Calendar of ours.

To think that, for good or evil,

our ability to feel loyalty
and concern for increasingly

larger groups, our obsession
with certain belief systems,

our capacity to
imagine the future,

our power to transform the
world and to search the cosmos

for answers...

The very name we
gave to our own species,

homo sapiens, Latin
for "wise persons" all of it

comes down to nothing more
than a single rung on our tiny

DNA ladder to the stars.

For much of the last hour
on the Cosmic Calendar,

for all but the last minute,

our ancestors were
hunters and gatherers,

living in small bands.

You know, when
people just shrug and say

"chalk it up to human
nature," it puzzles me.

They're usually
talking about our greed,

our arrogance, our violence.

But we've been human
for at least a couple of

hundred thousand years.

For most of that time
we weren't that way at all.

How do we know?

From the accounts of
explorers and anthropologists

encountering surviving
hunter-gatherer societies

across four centuries.

There are, of course,
exceptions, especially in

the circumstances
of extreme scarcity.

But the overwhelming consensus
paints a picture of humans

who lived in relative
harmony with each other

and the environment.

We shared the little we had
because we knew that our

survival depended on the group.

We didn't prize wealth beyond
our needs because possessions

would just weigh us
down as we wandered.

We were different from our
non-human primate ancestors

with their alpha-males
bullying their way to dominance.

And where was God?

Everywhere.

In the rocks and in the rivers,

in the trees, in the birds
and every living thing.

And that was human
nature for a couple of

hundred thousand years.

I'm standing on the southern
tip of Africa and imagining

what it was like some
time in the last hundreds

of thousands of years.

Back then, Africa was home to
all the world's homo sapiens...

All 10,000 of them.

If you were an extra-terrestrial
on a survey mission,

you might have thought we
were an endangered species.

Someday soon there
will be ten billion of us.

What happened?

How did we become
the globe-girdling,

space-traveling species
that we are today?

Welcome to the first
laboratory on Earth.

We're in Blombos Cave
where the evolution of the mind

made a great leap.

Our ancestors were conducting
chemistry experiments

here with a mineral
rich in iron, ocher.

They used it to decorate
objects with bits of red color,

but it may have
also had other uses,

to preserve animal
hides or as a medicine,

or as a way to
sharpen their tools,

or maybe as an insect repellent.

And they engraved
the ocher with symbols.

Something completely
new on the planet Earth, art.

Not to be eaten.

Not to provide shelter.

But to symbolize something...

Or just to be.

It looks a little
bit like a ladder,

or a double helix.

Whatever it was supposed to be,

it's the earliest remnant
we have of human culture.

We had found a way to leave
behind something distinctly human.

A means to communicate,
however enigmatically,

to you and me
100,000 years away.

A great power was discovered
here in Blombos Cave.

At 25 cosmic
seconds-to-midnight,

between 10,000 and
12,000 years ago,

humans discovered
another great power.

Instead of foraging for food,

we learned how to
grow it in the earth.

This changed everything.

Our ancestors did
something else they had

never done before.

They invented new
tools, technology,

to plant and pull
food out of the earth.

They settled down
and moved indoors.

Our relationship to
nature, and to one another,

would never be the same.

This agricultural revolution,

the domestication
of plants and animals,

is the mother of all
revolutions because all

others trace back to it.

Its consequences reach
far beyond even our

own moment in time.

Like most revolutions,

this one brought change
that was both great,

and horrifying.

There was a new concept
in the world, "Home."

A specific place on the
planet where your ancestors,

and you, were born and lived.

And over time these
settlements grew larger,

until about 20 cosmic seconds
ago or around 7000 BCE.

Welcome to Çatalhöyük,

a community on
the Anatolian plain.

It's about 9,000 years ago
and everyone has settled

in for the evening.

Tonight, roughly the same
number of people who once

populated all of Africa
are living together

in this proto-city.

The city is such a new idea,

they haven't
invented the street yet,

or the window.

So the only way you can get
into your apartment is to walk

along the rooftops till
you arrive at the opening

to your dwelling.

Çatalhöyük lacked something
much more significant than

streets and windows.

There is no palace here.

The bitter price that the
invention of agriculture cost

human society
had yet to be paid.

Here, there was no dominance
of the few over the many.

There was no 1%
attaining lavish wealth,

while most everyone
else merely subsisted.

Forensic analysis of the
women, men, and children

who lived here show a
remarkable similarity in diet.

They still cherished the
hunter-gatherer ethos of sharing.

Çatalhöyük was egalitarian.

The weakest ate the same
food that the strongest did,

and everyone lived in
the same kind of home.

But, man, it was
anything but drab.

Come on. I'll show you.

This was a typical apartment
in one of the first cities,

Çatalhöyük, in
what is now Turkey,

as it looked about
9,000 years ago.

They were a lot like us.

This bit of volcanic glass,

called obsidian, made
an excellent mirror.

If we could only find a
way to see all the things

that were once reflected here.

This apartment was home
for an extended family of

seven to ten people.

Every apartment had
a similar floor plan.

Bedroom. Living room. Kitchen.

Plaster auroch head.

The people of Çatalhöyük
had a passion for decorating.

Apartments were richly
appointed with the teeth and

bones and skins of animals.

The ocher that our
ancestors picked up in Africa,

about 100,000 years before,
was now the medium of choice

for the interior
decorators of Çatalhöyük.

And the red ocher had yet
another profound application.

They used it to create
an entirely new art form:

the map.

For the first time
ever, humans created a

two-dimensional
representation of their location

in space and time.

"This is where my home is
in relation to the volcano."

And with a few magical strokes,

the artist sent a message
across 9,000 years...

"I was here when the
volcano awakened."

The experiment at
Çatalhöyük was a success,

and within a few thousand years
there were cities everywhere.

When different kinds
of people congregate

in a single place,

ideas are exchanged
and new possibilities arise.

The city is a kind of brain,

creating and
processing new ideas.

Here, in the city of Amsterdam,

in the 17th century,
citizens of the old and

new worlds mingled as
they never had before,

and there was an
unprecedented freedom of thought.

These conditions produced a
golden age of science and art.

In Italy, Giordano Bruno
had proclaimed the existence

of other worlds.

For this he had
been made to suffer.

But a mere 50
years later in Holland,

the astronomer
Christiaan Huygens,

who held the same belief,
was showered with honors.

Light was the central
theme of the age:

The enlightenment of
human curiosity set free,

and the light shed by
Europe's first look at

the once hidden
realms of the planet.

The light that permeated
the paintings of the time,

particularly the
work of Vermeer.

And light as an object
of scientific inquiry.

For generations, textile
merchants had used a lens to

examine the thread count
of finely stitched fabrics.

In the Amsterdam of that time,

there lived three
men whose passion for

light inspired them to use that
ancient device in a completely new way.

They aimed the textile
merchants' lens at objects no

one had ever thought to
examine closely before.

It became a window, an
aperture for finding and

exploring new worlds.

Antonie Van Leeuwenhoek
used a single lens to reveal

the teeming microcosm
in a drop of water.

His friend,

Christiaan Huygens used
two lenses to bring the stars,

planets, and moons
close enough to

reveal their features.

Huygens became the first to
see that Saturn's rings did not

touch the planet, and the first to
understand what they really were.

He also discovered
Saturn's largest moon, Titan.

Huygens, like Bruno,

believed that the
stars were other suns,

orbited by their own
systems of planets and moons.

But why was there no hint
of those other worlds and

their living things
in the sacred books?

Whatever disquiet this
contradiction may have stirred

in the hearts and minds of the
leaders of the Enlightenment,

there was only one man who
dared to address it head-on.

He was another wizard of light.

Baruch Spinoza had been
a member of the Jewish

congregation of Amsterdam
through his teenage years.

But in his early 20s, he
began to speak publicly of

a new vision of God.

Spinoza's God was the
physical laws of the universe.

His sacred text,
the book of nature.

The Jews of Amsterdam
were mostly refugees from

the vicious Inquisitions
in Spain and Portugal,

where so many of them had
been tortured and murdered.

Amsterdam had offered
the Jews a refuge,

and they must have seen
Spinoza's radical ideas as a

threat to their hard-won
security in Holland.

They excommunicated
the young rebel,

and decreed that he
must be forever shunned.

Spinoza accepted their
punishment with dignity,

but without a
trace of submission.

He moved nearby, to The Hague.

Where he went even further,
daring to write that the Bible

was not dictated by God,
but written by human beings.

Spinoza wrote:

"Do not look for
God in miracles.

Miracles are violations
of the laws of nature.

God is best apprehended
in the study of those laws."

No one had ever said
these things aloud before.

Spinoza knew that he was
testing the limits of free thought,

even for Holland.

To him, an official state
religion was more than

spiritual coercion
of the individual.

Spinoza regarded the
miraculous events of the major

religious traditions as
organized superstition.

In his view, magical
thinking posed a danger to

the future citizens of
a rational, free society.

There could be no such
thing as democracy without the

separation of church and state.

He wrote a book that
introduced the ideas at the

heart of the American and
many another revolution.

Then, as now, there were
those who were threatened

by this view of God.

Spinoza continued to
write and speak about his

revolutionary view of God,

always wearing the slashed
cape as a badge of honor.

He died at 44, possibly
from inhaling particles of dust

during his years of
grinding lenses for

microscopes and telescopes.

250 years later, another man
with a passion for light made

a pilgrimage to the humble
workroom that had been

preserved as a testament
to the vast influence of

Spinoza's philosophy.

This man, world famous for
finding a new law of nature,

was often asked if
he believed in God.

Albert Einstein replied:

"I believe in Spinoza's God, who reveals
himself in the harmony of all that exists."

Our understanding of nature's
laws has advanced far beyond

Spinoza's, and even
Einstein's wildest dreams.

But there is one law of nature
we cannot seem to grasp.

Inscribed in the book of
nature is a parable about an

ancient alliance
between two kingdoms.

And those who
would tear it apart.

Long ago, there
were two kingdoms.

An alliance was
formed between them,

one that would bring them
both riches beyond measure.

A partnership lasting more
than a 100 million years.

And then a new kind of being
evolved in one of the two kingdoms.

Its descendants plundered the
riches and violated the alliance.

In their arrogance, they
became a mortal danger to both

kingdoms and to themselves.

This parable is true.

It's the story of two of the half
dozen realms of life on Earth,

the plant and animal kingdoms.

It's not easy being green.

Sex is challenging when
you're stuck in one place.

There's no dating.

You just sit there and
cast your seed to the winds.

Literally.

You just wait for
the wind to blow.

If you get lucky,
some of your pollen will

be carried away and land
on the sexual reproductive part

of another plant.

The plants played this
hit-or-miss game of chance for

a couple of hundred
million years,

until insects
evolved to play cupid.

What resulted was one of the
great co-evolution marriages

in the history of life.

The insect would visit
a flower for a dinner of

protein-rich pollen.

Inevitably, some of the
pollen would stick to the body

of the insect.

The insect would
visit another flower,

bringing along the
leftovers on its body.

That pollen fertilized
the next flower,

allowing it to reproduce.

It was a win-win deal for both
the flowers and the insects,

causing a series of delightful
evolutionary developments.

A new plant arose that
produced sugary nectar in

addition to the pollen.

Now, the insects came not
just for their basic meal of pollen,

but also for dessert.

The insects got chubbier,
evolved furry bodies and even

little pouches on their legs
to snag more pollen on their

daily rounds in the flowers.

Now there were bees.

This was a bonus for
yet another species of

the animal kingdom...

Us.

We are indebted to the bees
and their fellow pollinators

for something even
more vital to our survival.

Every third bite of food you
take-and this is even true for

those of us who are omnivores,
was made possible by them.

35% of the world's crops
depend on their cooperation.

The plants eat starlight...

And we, and the
animals, we eat plants.

And they don't just increase
the quantity of available food.

We owe them for much of the
biodiversity that has made our

food supply so dependable.

But we're working them to death.

And for the first time ever,

many kinds of bees are on
the endangered species list.

I think you know
where this is headed.

The blessing and the curse
of the invention of agriculture

has brought us here,
to the Halls of Extinction.

A memorial to all the
living things lost in the mass

extinction events
in Earth's history.

It's a monument to the broken
branches on the tree of life.

Five times in
the history of life,

cataclysmic geological,
and astronomical events,

have threatened to
extinguish life itself.

The sixth one is different.

The last time we were
here together this hallway

had no name.

Why?

Because back then a
scientific consensus had yet

to be reached that we were in
the midst of a mass extinction event.

That's changed.

Now, this hallway has a name.

It's ours.

The Anthropocene.

"Anthropo" from the Greek
word for "human" and "Cene."

the Greek word for "recent."

These are the species we
hunted to extinction back

when we were wanderers.

Including our own
cousins, the Neanderthals.

What is it about
us, as a species,

that wherever we
go, we bring death?

Beyond here lies the future.

Even now it's not too late to
keep this corridor from lengthening.

If we fail...

But if we succeed...

Come with me.

In a possible future
only decades away,

project Starshot, a
flotilla of 1,000 spacecraft,

will depart from Earth.

This part of the Atacama Desert
west of the Andes Mountains,

is so dry that it hasn't
rained in recorded history.

And that's great for us
because we're going to need

the clearest of skies.

There were no witnesses
when the first life left the

water for the land.

There was nobody to file
a report when the first birds

took to the skies.

But this is one great leap
that will be documented in

every conceivable way.

The whole world is watching.

We are, after all, sending
our first craft directly to the

planets of another sun:
the Alpha Centauri system.

These are the ships that
will carry our senses there.

These are interstellar
sailing ships propelled by light.

Their hulls weigh but a gram,
and they are no larger than a

pea, and yet they're equipped
with all that NASA's Voyagers

have and more.

When the first light blasts
forth from this phased array

of lasers, the spacecraft will
accelerate from zero to 20% of

the speed of light
in mere minutes.

Inside each nanocraft is
everything needed to perform

the preliminary reconnaissance
of the worlds of another star

and return that visual
and scientific information

back to Earth.

Space is mostly empty,

but there are tiny
dust particles that could

wreak havoc if they were
to collide with nanocraft

traveling at such high speeds.

That's one of the reasons we
need to send so many of them.

Voyager 1 is traveling
at 38,000 miles per hour.

It left home more
than 40 years ago.

It will take these
nanocraft only four days

to overtake her.

That's pretty fast,

but still only 20%
of the speed of light.

Proxima Centauri is
four light-years away.

That's a 20 year one-way trip.

Orbiting Proxima Centauri,
there is a world in the

habitable zone where
we think life might flourish.

Our robotic emissaries
will send accounts from

these new worlds.

Their messages will race
back to us on radio waves

at the speed of light.

They'll take four years to
reach us: 20 years one-way,

four years back.

That's a 24-year round-trip.

Many of you will be there then
to read and to write those new

pages in the book of nature,

and to chart our future
course of wandering...

No longer bounded by the earth,

the ocean,

or the sky.