One of the latest bills introduced in the Alberta legislature in Edmonton: Evolution classes should be optional.

It’s too bad, because while the rest of the world is teaching their kids about hard science, subsequently creating a more informed workforce. I thought Alberta was the patriotic priovince that wanted Canada to lead like we did over half a century ago: So they decided to make optional what they do not understand. I thought education was about challenging yourself, and learning things outside of your scope—to broaden your limited horizons. I wonder how they’ll go on about teaching geography to the class with a mix of students who have or have not taken evolution.

“The Appalachians, many millions of years ago, was the tallest mountain chain in the world. Much moreso than the Rockies and the Himilayas.”

“Well I was taught that the world was created in 6 days about 6000 years ago. That’s what I’m going to put on my test answer sheet. Deal with my parents and the press. I like to have an open mind.”

Great, now Canada will have a bunch of voters who’s environment lead them to believe that human history is actually significant in the universe. Of course Genesis takes 6 days. Do you really think they’re going to write 14 billion years of history before they get to the couple of thousand years of ancient human history? Isaac Asimov put it quite well

“In the beginning,” he said, “exactly fifteen point two billion years ago, there was a big bang and the Universe–”

But I had stopped writing. “Fifteen billion years ago?” I said incredulously.

“Absolutely,” he said. “I’m inspired.”

“I don’t question your inspiration,” I said. (I had better not. He’s three years younger than I am, but I don’t try questioning his inspiration. Neither does anyone else or there’s hell to pay.) “But are you going to tell the story of the Creation over a period of fifteen billion years?”

“I have to,” said my brother. “That’s how long it took. I have it all in here,” he tapped his forehead, “and it’s on the very highest authority.”

By now I had put down my stylus. “Do you know the price of papyrus?” I said.

“What?” (He may be inspired but I frequently noticed that the inspiration didn’t include such sordid matters as the price of papyrus.)

I said, “Suppose you describe one million years of events to each roll of papyrus. That means you’ll have to fill fifteen thousand rolls. You’ll have to talk long enough to fill them and you know that you begin to stammer after a while. I’ll have to write enough to fill them and my fingers will fall off. And even if we can afford all that papyrus and you have the voice and I have the strength, who’s going to copy it? We’ve got to have a guarantee of a hundred copies before we can publish and without that where will we get royalties from?”

My brother thought awhile. He said, “You think I ought to cut it down?”

“Way down,” I said, “if you expect to reach the public.”

“How about a hundred years?” he said.

“How about six days?” I said.

He said horrified, “You can’t squeeze Creation into six days.”

I said, “This is all the papyrus I have. What do you think?”

“Oh, well,” he said, and began to dictate again, “In the beginning– Does it have to be six days, Aaron?”

I said, firmly, “Six days, Moses.”