From a New Yorker story about research to find the genetic mutation that makes us different from our ancestors:
By about forty-five thousand years ago, modern humans had already reached Australia, a journey that, even mid-ice age, meant crossing open water. Archaic humans like Homo Erectus “spread like many other mammals in the Old World”, Pääbo told me. “They never came to Madagascar, never to Australia. Neither did Neanderthals. It’s only fully modern humans who start this thing of venturing out on the ocean where you don’t see land. Part of that is technology, of course; you have to have ships to do it. But there is also, I like to think or say, some madness there. You know? How many people must have sailed out and vanished on the Pacific before you found Easter Island? I mean, it’s ridiculous. And why do you do that? Is it for the glory? For immortality? For curiosity? And now we go to Mars. We never stop.”
“We are crazy in some way. What drives it? That would be really cool to know.”
I’ve long believed that there is an individualistic, deeply personal irrationality in each of us — something that makes every person leap into their great, unknown future.