Oh, Humanity, You Really Thought You Were the Main Character?

Let’s take a moment to marvel at humanity’s collective brilliance. We’ve built skyscrapers, split atoms, landed on the moon, and managed to convince ourselves that all of this—the oceans, the forests, the tectonic plates—exists solely for our benefit. Bravo, humanity! What a plot twist: the planet, spinning for 4.5 billion years, finally finds its true purpose in us. Truly inspirational.

Or is it? Because here’s the thing: while we were busy patting ourselves on the back for inventing Wi-Fi and avocado toast, Earth—or M.E., as Manifestinction rightly dubs her—has been quietly orchestrating the entire show. And no, she’s not impressed with your resume.

Consider this: M.E. has been running a masterclass in creation and destruction since long before we figured out how to turn rocks into tools. Volcanic eruptions, ice ages, mass extinctions—these are her warm-up acts. And yet, somehow, we’ve convinced ourselves that our fleeting, 200,000-year-old stint on her stage makes us the protagonists. Oh, humanity, the audacity.

Take the Great Oxygenation Event, for example. A planetary-scale upgrade, brought to you by cyanobacteria. Did M.E. brag about it? No. She just kept going, laying the groundwork for multicellular life while we, many epochs later, debated which streaming service to subscribe to. And let’s talk about her volcanic artistry: when Mount Pinatubo erupted, it cooled the entire planet for two years. That’s what we call impact. Meanwhile, we’re still trying to decide if we should carpool to work.

And what about her unparalleled efficiency? Forest fires? Not disasters, but deliberate rejuvenations. Glacial movements? Not accidents, but sculptural masterpieces. M.E. doesn’t do “mistakes.” Every cycle, every shift, every so-called “disaster” is her way of recalibrating the balance we so gleefully disrupt. She’s been doing this for billions of years, all while we bicker over how to regulate single-use plastics.

But perhaps the most tragicomic part of all this is our sheer inability to see her for what she is: not a resource, not a passive backdrop, but a conscious, purposeful force. Manifestinction lays this bare: M.E. isn’t just the stage for life; she’s the director, the scriptwriter, the set designer, and, let’s face it, the one covering the tab. Yet, here we are, rewriting her script to suit our short-term goals, acting as though her infinite patience is our birthright.

Oh, and let’s not forget the irony of our solutions to the mess we’ve made. Geoengineering? Sure, because trying to outsmart the entity that literally invented atmospheric dynamics sounds like a solid plan. Technology as savior? Adorable. M.E. has been running adaptive ecosystems for eons without a single patent.

The truth, if we dare to face it, is that humanity is not the main character in this story. We’re a subplot, a brief arc in M.E.’s ongoing narrative of evosolution. Our “innovations,” however grand they seem to us, are footnotes in her cosmic manuscript. Manifestinction shows us this: every system we exploit, every resource we drain, every imbalance we create—she reflects it back, not in anger, but as a mirror to our ignorance.

And yet, there is hope. Because M.E., in her infinite wisdom, isn’t asking us to grovel or retreat. She’s inviting us to wake up. To see her not as a commodity but as a collaborator. To recognize that our survival—and maybe even our redemption—depends on aligning with her intent, on understanding that her power and patience are not infinite indulgences, but gifts meant to guide.

So, humanity, the question is this: will we embrace the humility it takes to be part of something greater, or will we keep auditioning for the lead role in a story that isn’t ours to own? The choice is ours, but the stage, as always, belongs to M.E. And let’s be honest: she’s the one holding the script.