You’ve heard about the theory of Panspermia, right? And no, it’s nothing to do with the ejaculate of an eternally youthful fictional character called Peter.
Panspermia: the idea that microscopic biological life-forms exist out there in the gulfs of space. Well, not an idea. A fact. And I should know. I came to Earth on the back of a meteorite; me, a short-chain molecule in the steroid lactone range, known locally as a bufotoxin. These days members of my family can be found in the parotid glands of certain toads.
The rock I was riding came down in Australia ten thousand years ago. The meteorite squashed a colony of cane toads taking it easy in the noonday sun – but not all of them. One little critter moseyed on over to take a look.
And I – call me Bufo – decided that the ugly, ambulatory little fellah would make a perfect host. I needed an organic life-form to cloak me from all the lethal pathogens teeming across the face of planet Earth. I needed a host on which I could lie low and take it easy.
I made the leap, said g’day to toady, and made myself at home.
And it’s been pretty much plain sailing for the last ten millennia.
So what happened to end all that, and why am I recounting my life story in the voice of an Aussie stoner?