“Are you out of your mind?!” we sometimes demand. The answer is yes, we are all out of our minds, which we left long ago when our brain needed more room to do its dance. Or rather out of our brain. A born remodeler, it made as many additions as building codes allowed, then designed two kinds of storage bins. Information could be put into things like books that felt good in the hand, and also onto invisible things like airwaves and Internets. “O brave new world,” the sea-child Miranda muses in perfect pentameter in The Tempest, “That has such people in’t.” Common sense tells us that if life exists elsewhere in the universe, it will be far more technologically advanced than we. But our evolution has been deliriously quirky, resulting in beings with bizarre traits and personalities, including, for example, the idea of a personality. I wonder how many other planetarians feel the need to share and document their personal existence in such elaborate ways.