A few weeks ago the New Horizons probe flew past Pluto. When I was a kid we called it a planet, the ninth planet, the last planet, like the last house on a road leading out of town. Here in Idaho, as you pass town’s last house, you cross farm fields; swaths of corn, wheat, or alfalfa. Then you pass the ranches; open ranges of cattle or horse. Beyond that, wilderness. So, New Horizons leaves hearth and home behind and races towards unknown badlands maybe filled with dragons. Who knows? We don’t.
