We zoom closer and discern the probable reason: a suffocating layer of exhaust fumes that prevent the radiation of heat into space. The planet is retaining an inordinate amount of the sun’s energy. Closer up, we can see vast swaths of scorched, black earth, where fires have recently raged. In low-lying areas along the coasts, storm damage – smashed houses, uprooted trees, and tossed boats – lies everywhere. Near both of Earth’s poles, open water shimmers, absorbing heat energy where once multi-year ice reflected it. What could be causing these rapid changes?

So we zoom farther in and activate our social activity scanners. They hum and whir, analyze and cogitate, and display their conclusion: “Escalating, possibly terminal, tribal warfare. Restricted to one dominant species: Home sapiens.”

We should note, as we observe the turmoil beneath us, that sapiens named himself. He is (from the Latin) “The Wise One” or “The One Who Knows.” Also that while the rest of Earth’s species are preoccupied mainly with their survival, sapiens are vigorously competing with themselves and creating – and deploying – ever more effective means of destroying each other.

For many years, Ross McKenney, a retired woodsman assuming the persona of Jean Baptiste, regaled incoming Dartmouth students with tales from the Maine woods. But at the end of each talk, he often turned serious and suggested that if the students were looking for an ideal to emulate, they consider the sugar maple: It grows tall and strong in the shade of its parents; it gives, during its life, sweetness, shelter, and shade; it never demands more than its share of resources; and, dying, it gives lumber, firewood, or nutrition for its succeeding generations. But we’re the smart ones, eh?

It’s amazing to me, considering the benefits of cooperation and the dangers inherent in competition, that our destructive habits seem so ingrained. For the amount of resources spent in our pursuit of dominance, the earth’s denizens, if instead we cooperated, could virtually reprise that mythical garden forfeited by our progenitors so long ago. But it’s clear as anything can be that we have no intention of striving always to be top dog – even though Shakespeare has left us with the irrefutable observation that “uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.”

A track coach, decades ago, tried to steel our team for a tough meet by saying, “Remember, boys, they put their pants on one leg at a time, just like you.” He was right, of course, though he failed to mention how fast they ran once they had them on. But consider the existential anxieties of some of our competitors who seem to have it made.

President-for-Life Xi Jinping is trying to swallow and digest Tibet, the Uyghurs, Hong Kong, Taiwan, and the South China Sea. We can guess at his reasons. Yet not only is his own precious life well over half-spent; like our home-grown example of authoritarianism, he’s sitting on an active volcano of enemies of his own making. A serious recession would do him in. The inscrutable Vladimir Putin, safe inside the Kremlin, is trying to conceal increasing surges of the current pandemic; and should he displease the oligarchs who support him as he protects them, he will be replaced abruptly. The list goes on – el-Sisi, bin Salman, Erdogan, Duda, al-Assad, Bolsonaro, Maduro, Ortega – and on. The total hours of sleep these “strong men” lose must be astronomical.

If only we could quell our silly fears, quit playing king-of-the-mountain, and take poor, dead Rodney King’s words to heart – “Can we all get along?”– and manage to keep our current concerns in perspective. While we focus on the “crucial” runoff election coming up in Georgia, the earth, from Spaceman Spiff’s perspective, resembles a glowing coal just waiting for a breeze.