After the excitement of travel to the other planets,
Neptune was kind of anti-climactic. I arrived there
on my first try without encountering either
guardians or visa-stamping customs agents.
From the beginning the eighth planet gave me the
impression of being relatively neutral in energy,
quiet - a backwater with nothing in it that would be
of interest to anyone.
Silver-gray in appearance from space - not blue
like on this picture - the planet seemed shrouded
in perpetual haze. Without trepidation I plunged
into the wispy fog, descending for quite a while
before I emerged on the surface.
What I discovered there was a
landscape that looked like wintry
tundra. I spotted no signs of
humans or human habitation, but
animals proved abundant. Arctic
wildlife similar in appearance to
caribou, polar bears, and seals
moved about in large numbers.
The scene was reminiscent of
what one might see in the Alaskan
wildlife refuge or in Siberia,
except that the creatures were
sufficiently different to signify that
this was an alien planet.
Not believing that Neptune could be totally uninhabited by humans or other sentient
life forms, I flew a series of ever widening surveillance circles until I had completed a
full circumnavigation of the entire planet. My excursions confirmed that Neptune was
indeed nothing but wilderness untouched by man or any other highly sentient life.
The wide disparity of biological and spiritual evolution among the various planets
made me wonder how such a thing could be within the same solar system. A plausible
answer might be that planets go though cycles of growth and renewal, and that the
various worlds of our system are all in different stages of this cycle.