It could be said that the history of life is a history of movement, a vast dance of inexorable

entropic change. From the propulsion of the stars and the planets to the vibrating

of subatomic particles and the stretching of space itself, it's useful to remember

sometimes that even the most solid seeming of objects are in one way or another in a

constant kinetic state. Be that the glass in your window, the elements of a diamond, or even

the earth, under our feet. Let us then, for a moment, take one singular place and look upon

it as an ageless being of omnipotence might observe it. You're listening to unexplained,

and I'm Richard McLean, Smith.

At first we see a minute speck hanging in the depths of space.

Drawing closer, we see it is in fact a nameless planet moving around a nameless star.

Drawing closer still, we see on the surface of that planet, two gigantic land masses

are set on an imperceptible, but devastating collision course. And on the edge of one,

we find our spot. The movement of the land is generated in part by the heat of the planet's

core, a solid ball of iron nickel, raging at almost five and a half thousand degrees

centigrade, that in turn heats a mantle layer below the planet's surface.

This outer shell appears to be a static rock composed mainly of silicon, iron, magnesium,

oxygen, and aluminium. But of course, it is not still. Instead, it bends and creeps,

cajoled by the planet's warm belly, expanding and contracting in convective circles as the heat

rises and falls through the silicate layers. It is on this sea of rock and waves of heat

that the two land masses are being thrown toward each other.

And on this planet, by our measurements, the days last just over 22 hours,

and oxygen levels in the air are 50% higher than anything we have ever experienced.

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