It was halfway between midnight and dawn, and the moon had summoned me. As an ocean sailor who has navigated my lovely boat across the Wide Waters using just the stars and my sextant, I pay more attention to the sky than city-folk. And I also pay more attention to the Earth than sailor-folk.
At this very instant there are at least 150 blue water sailboats within 10 miles of me. Their crews sleep peacefully. They are not wondering, like I am, whether this lunar oddity will be the final one that humanity witnesses. For tonight’s full moon will be the last one that falls on a Friday the 13th until 2049. The question that troubles me is this: “Will the human project still exist in 35 years?” My concern is not just delusional pessimism. It is mushroom cloud terror.