Curiosity

There was only one rule: don’t open the door.

It was a rule which I iterated to Jenn (11) many times.

And I never explained the why.

Jenn has always been an inquisitive girl by nature.

She takes after me, every time.

She’s too curious. Unfortunately.

People say curiosity is a beautiful gift, that it drives our advancement as a species.

They’re right, but gifts without limits are curses.

Curiosity can hurt. It can even kill.

And that dangerous, obsessive wondering is something we’re both afflicted with: curiosity to a fault.

For us it’s a rancid compulsion— a constant inability to walk away from the unknown.

I wish we could just wash our hands of those mysteries which simply can’t be solved.

I remember the day I learned how deadly curiosity truly was.

Jenn (1) had been working on an active broadcast Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence (SETI) program.

But the higher ups withdrew funding.

They said waving hello to a needle in a haystack, and hoping the needle was capable of waving back from lightyears away was a waste of time and money.

That project was her baby.

The shutdown broke her.

She called me in agony. Said she could almost take not knowing if there was life out there and but she could never accept not being allowed to search.

I tried to soothe her, but she stopped responding. All I heard on the other end were bitter sobs and finally a gunshot.

I want my Jenn to have a chance at a happy, satisfied life.

So I’ve tried to trim away that damned curiosity. I never tell my Jenn why she can’t open the door. It’s just a test, to let me know whether I need to start over.

I hope Jenn (12) can resist.