(Another great post © the F.I.S. project.)
The butterfly effect is an ideatic snare for the foolish. "God has a plan." The butterfly alters the air currents and averts future hurricanes. "God is cruel because of butterflies." The butterfly alters the air currents and produces future hurricanes. "God is dead because He was too good for us."
Things affect other things. Effects affect effects. Conceptualizing it through a pretty pair of wings is not insight, it is marketing. The pupa produces no butterflies without the thrumming of other butterflies, and the pupae are only ever created through the inadvertent churning of the primordial soup. Lysenko-as-god. "God is dead because He is cruel."
Why, then, "the butterfly effect"? "The" butterfly effect? The "butterfly effect"? The wings of the butterfly, the fins of the fish, the wings of the albatross, the flatulence of the tired crewman. "The fart effect." "The leaf-blower effect." We get it--everything is connected. And these are the epiphanies you have to offer us? Pi; quadratica; the Bernoulli equation; the Planck constant: I asked for flying cars, and you gave me dead Confucianism wrapped inside an even deader insect? The egg came from the chicken came from the egg came from the hybrid dinosaur came from the hybrid dinosaur egg from the tyrannosaur from the prion from the unfathomable explosion.
Daggertip dragged 'cross a steel table frosted in cold. "You think it’s too much of a coincidence, it’s planned, it’s destiny, because you read about me in the paper this morning, but it’s not; there are a hundred thirteen million people out there who would feel the same way if I’d turned up in their kitchens tonight instead of yours. There are no coincidences, and what does that mean? The billiard ball moves only the way we hit it, changed a little bit by air resistance and gravity and slight imperfections in the surface of the ball caused by the predictable effects of its construction and the use to which it has been put in earlier games. Now, therefore, it is not evil to stab you, I am not an evil man, there is no free will, and all I see that comes out when I stick people is butterflies, pretty butterflies, with faces like my own face and wings like my ears in azure. Bless you and bless me, feel good inside, because unlike everyone else, who hasn't met me yet, as least you know this is inevitable, and you’re not really feeling pain. That’s what I do, I cure pain, I’m a natural function of the universe, meant to stop people from feeling that things which are inevitable should 'hurt,' and when I’ve accomplished that I’ll stop."
We loved each other until the end of time.