On December 17th, 1977,

Gary Gilmore was executed for murder.

He was the first prisoner executed by the United States after a

10-year suspension of the practice. When asked if he had any

last words, he simply replied "let's do it."

Years later, advertising executive Dan Wieden adapted those words into

a slogan, that is now more widely known

than Gary Gilmore. Last words

are powerful. They are the final statement, a person's entire life has

been leading up to.

One last chance to go on record before obliteration.

We don't know Albert Einstein's

last words. He spoke them in German

to a nurse who only knew English,

They're lost.

But what will be

our first words? The first words

from earth extraterrestrials out there might hear from us.

We have been broadcasting signals with radio waves

wirelessly through the air for more than one hundred years.

Under the right conditions, those signals can leak into space

and keep going outward at the speed of light

through our galaxy, through the universe. Current human technology would struggle

to tune into regular TV and radio broadcasts from

as near as Mars. But perhaps other intelligent beings out there

would fare better and could point there instruments at earth

and hear us. If so, what would the

earliest thing be that they could receive?

Our cosmic first

words. Well, the

earliest signal, robust enough to be picked up light years away,

might have come from Hitler.

His 1936 broadcasting

of the Summer Olympics used powerful enough radio equipment to reach

forty-one countries,

making it a contender for what listening extraterrestrials could receive as,

to them, Earth's first words.

Within the last 50 years or so, broadcast signals

in general, have become stronger than Hitler's Olympics

and are better candidates for being intercepted.

The earliest of them have traveled 50 light years away from Earth.

Altogether they have entertained billions of

people and by now about 2,000 stars.

The 133 brightest of which are shown

here. So far, Martin Luther King JR's

"I have a dream" speech has traveled as far as the furthest

on the diagram µAra, which has

four known planets. In six years,

our first words on the Moon will pass by µAra's

system. "That's one small step for man,

one giant leap for mankind." Those words were spoken by Neil

Armstrong, seen here a few years before his death

with Eugene Cernan, the most recent and currently

last man to have walked on the surface of the Moon.

On December 14th, 1972,

before climbing back into the lunar module, Cernan spoke

our, as of today, last words on the Moon.

"We leave as we came and,

God willing, as we shall return, with peace,

and hope for all mankind." Of course,

once inside the lunar module, the crew kept

talking, meaning that technically the very last words humans have said

on the surface of the Moon were a countdown spoken by Harrison

Jack Schmitt. "Three, two, one."

We haven't been back to the Moon

since. But hold on. What were the first words

spoken on the surface of the Moon

really? Armstrong's giant

leap statement is a good answer, but what counts as being

on the Moon if touchdown

counts? Then the first words spoken on the Moon go not to Armstrong but to Buzz Aldrin,

who, on feeling at least one of the landing pads

softly settle onto the lunar soil, spoke

this immortal description: "contact light."

We are pumping broadcasts in the space

as an ever expanding sphere of radio waves.

But here's something humbling. Even while growing at the speed of light,

Earth's radio sphere is puny.

This is our galaxy, the Milky Way. Comparatively,

the distance our radio signals, our voice

has traveled is this big.

The universe is huge.

How the heck are you supposed to be remembered in it?

Utter last words that stick around after you die?

Well, you may have heard the famous quote from Banksy

"They say you die twice.

One time when you stop breathing and a second time,

a bit later on, when somebody says your name

for the last time." But your anonymous influence continues

long after that, right? I mean, people may stop saying your name,

but, for instance, if you have kids and they have kids

and so on and so on, you continue on,

in a way. Maybe just genetically, not by name.

Well, people have tried. The world record

for most children passed out of one single woman

belongs to Mrs. Feodor Vassilyev. She had

16 pairs of twins, 7 sets of triplets

and 4 sets of quadruplets for a grand total

of 69 children. As for being a biological

father, that takes less time. The documented record

for most children fathered by one man is held

by Ismail Ibn Sharif, who is estimated to have had

more than 900 children with multiple women.

But children—or not—in a feedback system like

earth or life, cause-and-effect

are complicated and never ending.

Remember the double pendulums from this video? A small difference

in the initial conditions of a system can lead to enormously

different outcomes later. On Tuesday

I'm flying from London to Los Angeles. The plane will be flown by pilots who

can steer it toward the correct runway

in the United States, but if the airplane needed to be

aimed from London and sent on a straight shot,

now, things would need to be very specific.

Misaiming just one degree to the left

at the beginning would send the plane not to Los Angeles

but nearly 160 kilometres south to Tijuana, Mexico.

Your name and your last words might eventually be forgotten, but your status

as an initial condition for the universe's

future is already happening.

Bach died before he could complete

The Art of Fugue. The peace ends abruptly

during Contrapunctus XIV. So, composers continue

reconstructing it. For that reason, it is

uniquely alive. Speaking new

last words all the time, as new people meet it

and finish it in their own way. Likewise, no matter how

cool or lame and small

you feel, you will continue. Your impact will be remembered, mathematics

guarantees it. Even if like Bach you leave things

unfinished.

And as always,

thanks for wa...