My parents told me that there was a kind of secret code called DNA running through our veins. I learned it carried the traits of ancestors I would never meet. My genes linked me back to the earliest humans, to prehistoric mammals and back eventually to the first life on Earth. And if, someday, I had children of my own, I would become a link in the chain, passing along an embedded part of myself to the future generations who would never know my name. This was, to me, more satisfying than any other possible explanation. And it was verifiable, independent of my belief or lack thereof.
