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The Galactus Premise ©2026, George J. Irwin. All rights reserved. Back when comic books didn't get "rebooted" on a regular basis, Issue Number 48 of Fantastic Four introduced an antagonist for the ages: Galactus. He was, in one sense, nothing more than a hungry demi-god. However, his required diet was... entire planets, which he sucked dry, leaving only a lifeless husk. What's become known in comic book circles as "The Galactus Trilogy" tells the story of how the Fantastic Four, with some serious amount of assistance, manage to turn Galactus away. Key to the story is the Silver Surfer, Galactus' advance scout, who is (somehow) convinced that Galactus should spare Earth and pleads the planet's case. There's a fair amount of suspension of disbelief on the part of the reader here, but then again, that is in general with superhero comic books. When the Silver Surfer first tries to steer his master away from Earth, the reply is something that's stuck in my consciousness since I first read "The Galactus Trilogy": "Would you hesitate to tread upon an ant hill? These creatures are of no consequence to Galactus." Well, personally I do try to avoid treading upon ant hills, but I guess I digress. When the character of Galactus was created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, the intent was not that this would be your ordinary run of the mill supervillain. Lee wrote later, in the introduction to a reprint volume of Fantastic Four comics, that "There were enough would-be world conquerors in the Marvel Universe and in all the other comic book galaxies. That was when inspiration struck. Why not have him not be a really evil person? After all, a demi-god should be beyond mere good and evil. He'd just be (don't laugh!) hungry." And besides, one not need look beyond Earth to find entities that share the attitude expressed by Galactus about ant hills. Galactus was haughty about it, but the way he was written, he really didn't have a choice. He had to eat. There have been some among this human race who do have choices. And yet they've thought of others in this same human race as ants. This is hardly anything new. "Man's inhumanity to man" was one of the themes drilled into me in English classes in high school. There were plenty of literary examples. I remember John Steinbeck's novel In Dubious Battle being pointed out as having that theme. I don't remember if there were any works we discussed that did not have that theme. (Perhaps that's why it's not regularly part of my writing.) And there are plenty of historic examples as well, including perhaps the single worst one since humans were on Earth: the Holocaust. If you think that didn't happen, you can stop reading right now, thanks. We have gotten progressively better, if you will, at being inhumane to each other. Prehistoric homo sapiens could only hit each other with clubs and sticks and throw rocks. Then we discovered fire, and invented the wheel, and so on, and the ability to inflict inhumanity on each other increased. The world believed that we reached the ultimate level of potential destruction with the atomic bomb, only to top that with the hydrogen bomb, and then exceed that with various new and improved iterations of how we can annihilate each other, and most likely everyone and everything else on the planet. There are any number of dystopian novels, short stories, movies, and television programs that speculate on what happens next, but to summarize, it ain't good. But perhaps we've exceeded that yet again. The fallout, literally, of nuclear weapons is that it renders anything they impact unusable for as long as centuries—not useful if you're planning to take over the world. The neutron bomb, which is focused on the destruction of life forms only, was, I suppose, a way to prevent that. And there's the Electro-Magnetic Pulse, which can disrupt equipment, power networks, and other devices, essentially turning them into bricks given enough intensity. There have been dystopian writings about that too, sometimes featuring internal combustion engine-powered cars and trucks built in the 1970s and before, that still work because they don't have any chips, computers, or other electrical gear that could be fried by an EMP. I must admit that have considered finding out whether there is a short range targeted weapon of this type that can disable car stereos when the motorist in question decides they are entitled to share their musical selections (of any type, I hasten to add) at high volume, thus illustrating my own hypocrisy with respect to Man's Inhumanity to Man. On the other hand, I've not pursued, seriously or otherwise, the idea of blasting the car of someone who blasts their music. I just take some comfort in the idea that they are slowly disassembling it on their own, one deep bass vibration at a time. Meanwhile, I suspect that the internal combustion powered cars and trucks aren't very useful when contemporary gas pumps have all sorts of electronics that would be fried by an EMP. There's a much slower acting but perhaps even more deadly protocol: basic denial of human services. Tie it up in red tape, delay it with process, and deny it because of some reason or other—like, for example, you are an "other" that is not deserving. Turn it up to eleven with the help of "Artificial Intelligence"-- no need for those pesky, emotional humans to get involved. This is actually not as new an idea as I'd thought: there is an episode in Season Seven of Star Trek: Voyager called "Critical Care," where ability to receive services is proportionate to social standing. I'm sure this isn't the first time that theme was explored. Any relationship to the rich being able to afford Concierge Medicine is strictly coincidental, of course. A subtheme in Man's Inhumanity to Man, which is not at all confined to literature, is the simple question "why?" And there are several answers, including but not limited to: money, power, religious convictions. For that last one, please review The Crusades, for example. In my office there is a three volume history of that rather futile enterprise, authored by one Sir Steven Runciman. A later historian, looking back at Runciman's influential work, concluded that Runciman believed that "the Holy War in itself was nothing more than a long act of intolerance in the name of God." The Crusades was the only course I ever took in my educational path strictly because I liked the instructor (the college professor whom I thought was great with the required Western Civilization course the year before), and from then on, I quietly shake my head any time someone thinks that there is a chance for cessation of hostilities in that part of the world. I don't think anything short of an Organian Peace Treaty is going to work. Non Star Trek fans, look it up.* A common thread in all of this is the lack of empathy. This particular ability has been getting some really negative comments lately by Certain People With Ungodly Amounts of Money. Speaking of ungodly, one of the counterpoints that comes up pretty consistently is that people without empathy are not very Christian. To which I remark, perhaps the attitude shown with lack of empathy isn't twisted Christianity in general, but specifically Calvinism. Or more to the point, predestination. Poor? Desperate? Sick? That's God's will! It's in the Bible! No need for us to do anything about it! So sad, too bad... Then again, maybe it's the lack of any regard whatsoever. We may have simply decided that the other guy is far beneath us. This can be for whatever reason including but not limited to "they don't look like me," "they don't act like me," and a justification growing in popularity these days, "they don't agree with me." If you buy into that premise, then it really doesn't matter very much, does it? So, would you hesitate to tread upon an ant hill? Or another human?
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