A Chat About Tardigrades That Turned Into a Talk About Preparedness

I'll be honest upfront: this isn't about career development or frameworks for introspection. It's about something I stumbled upon while casually chatting with AI one day.

I never expected to arrive at the meaning of "being someone who has thought things through" via tardigrades.

The Toughest Creature Alive

"What organism do you think could survive a massive asteroid impact?"

That's the question I tossed at an AI, and that's where it all began.

Deep-sea microorganisms, cockroaches, fungi—various candidates came up, but tardigrades stood out above the rest.

These creatures measure just 0.1 to 1.5 millimeters long. Nearly invisible to the naked eye, yet in their desiccated state they can withstand temperatures from −272°C to +149°C (in short-duration experiments), survive the vacuum of outer space, and self-repair their DNA even after exposure to radiation hundreds of times the lethal dose for humans.

Their secret lies in a state called "cryptobiosis." When they detect harsh conditions, they curl up, reduce their metabolism to near zero, and essentially "stop time." When conditions improve, they resume activity as if nothing happened.

In 2007, ESA's FOTON-M3 mission exposed desiccated tardigrades to the vacuum of space. After returning to Earth, more than 68% of individuals shielded from UV radiation reactivated—and some even laid eggs.

"Amazing" doesn't quite cover it.

What It Means to Stop Time

"If they never entered cryptobiosis, would they just die of old age normally?" I asked. The answer was surprising.

In their active state, tardigrades live only a few months to one or two years at most. Since metabolism essentially halts during cryptobiosis, that dormant period doesn't count toward their lifespan.

There's a real research case to illustrate this. Moss samples collected in Antarctica in 1983 were frozen at −20°C for 30.5 years. When researchers examined the samples in 2014, they found tardigrades. After thawing and rehydrating, two individuals and one egg revived—and subsequently reproduced successfully (Tsujimoto et al., National Institute of Polar Research, 2016).

"That's basically time travel," I thought.

The moment they fall asleep and the moment they wake up are seamlessly connected. Whether 30 years have passed or not, they feel nothing in between. It's the stuff of cold-sleep science fiction.

So what if humans could cold-sleep into the future? How far ahead could we actually adapt? The conversation expanded.

A few decades—language and cultural foundations would still be recognizable. A few centuries—language would likely be unrecognizable. A few millennia—the very definition of "human" might have changed.

But the biggest barrier wouldn't be technology, we agreed. It would be the loneliness of existing in a world where every family member and friend is gone—being a "relic of the past." Whether you could bear that weight might be the true limit of adaptation.

And then it hit me.

Tardigrades don't even think about any of this.

Wake up. Moss is there. Eat. That's it. The biggest reason humans couldn't handle time-traveling to the future is that we "overthink things." Our advanced intelligence becomes a handicap. As a survival strategy, "don't think about complicated things" might actually be the optimal answer—an ironic conclusion.

The Fact That This Is Being Studied Is Fascinating

"Can tardigrades enter cryptobiosis multiple times?" I continued. Turns out, it's not unlimited.

Each cycle of desiccation and revival accumulates damage to their bodies. Think of it like a smartphone battery degrading with each charge cycle. Moreover, if dried too rapidly, they can die without successfully entering cryptobiosis—meaning even the "toughest creature on Earth" needs time to prepare. That part was genuinely amusing.

And then I felt something else: "The fact that this is a legitimate field of research is fascinating in itself."

There are researchers seriously investigating how many times you can desiccate a tardigrade before it dies. That painstaking, incremental work—driven by pure curiosity about why these creatures are so radiation-resistant—led to the discovery of the Dsup (Damage Suppressor) protein. When introduced into human cells, this protein has been shown to increase radiation resistance, and research into applications for cancer treatment and space medicine is ongoing.

This is a textbook example of how basic research—the kind people dismiss with "what's the point?"—can lead to extraordinary breakthroughs decades later.

The Weight of Experimentation

"Talking about all this, someone's bound to say we shouldn't use living creatures as test subjects. What would a convincing explanation even look like?" The question arose naturally.

You can approach it from several angles. Tardigrades have almost no developed nervous system for sensing pain, so the nature of suffering is fundamentally different from mammalian experiments. There's the utilitarian argument that insights from a few individuals could save countless lives in the future. And the practical reality that no alternative methods exist yet.

But would any of these fully satisfy everyone? Probably not. If you take the position that "using life for human convenience is inherently wrong," any explanation sounds like justification.

That's when a different kind of thought surfaced in my mind.

The Question of "Being Prepared to Be the Subject"

"If there were beings of a higher dimension than humans, and they decided to experiment on us for fun, shouldn't we be prepared to accept that? After all, we're doing the exact same thing to other animals."

When I said this, the response was: "That's logically consistent."

If humans are using other creatures purely through "the logic of the stronger," then when something stronger comes along, we can't complain about being subjected to the same logic.

I took it further: "Researchers who carry the preparedness to be on the receiving end—aren't they, in a way, more trustworthy?"

A researcher who holds the awareness that "if this were done to me, I'd have to accept it" is someone who truly understands the weight of handling life. They're fundamentally different from someone who justifies experimentation through the thoughtless refrain of "it's for the advancement of science."

This extends beyond research. Someone who imagines "what if I were the livestock?" before choosing to eat meat is engaged in a different kind of act than someone who eats without thinking. What matters isn't "whether you do it or not" but "whether you do it with awareness"—it's a question of posture.

Do Pigs Really "Die Happy"?

"I've heard that pigs and cattle raised with care somehow know their purpose—that they were born to be eaten—and feel a kind of happiness at the end. Is that actually true?" This question came up too.

At least with current science, it's a claim that's hard to substantiate.

Modern animal behavioral science has found no evidence that pigs or cattle can form the abstract understanding that "I was born to be eaten." Slaughterhouse studies show that cattle exhibit elevated heart rates and cortisol levels from the moment they arrive, along with increased scleral exposure (showing the whites of their eyes)—indicators of fear. Multiple studies have also reported that pigs show strong stress responses and panic behavior when they perceive the suffering of their companions.

The origin of the "dying happy" narrative likely lies in the Japanese spirit of "itadakimasu" and animistic worldviews. The cultural gratitude for receiving life somehow morphed into the claim that "the animals themselves feel this way."

In other words, this may be an interpretation born from the eater's desire to believe it. A way of slightly easing the weight of taking a life by believing the other party was happy. I don't want to outright deny that impulse—but I think we should be careful about taking it as fact.

When I realized this, it stung a little.

The Concept of Animal Welfare

Even so, the "raising them with care" part carries real significance.

That's where the important concept of "animal welfare" entered the conversation.

This philosophy is gaining ground in the livestock industry: "We can't stop killing, but we can reduce suffering." Techniques for instantaneous loss of consciousness, facility designs that minimize fear, and farming environments that reduce stress during the animal's lifetime. It's a practice of facing reality head-on while striving for as much integrity as possible.

I want to be cautious about believing the "dying happy" narrative at face value. But that doesn't mean eating without thinking. It means choosing to eat meat knowing what lies behind it. Understanding the full picture and carrying that preparedness. I believe that taking an interest in animal welfare is one form of that preparedness.

You Don't Have to Carry Preparedness Every Waking Moment

That said, consciously thinking about all of this every time you eat is difficult. Overdoing it makes daily life unsustainably heavy.

We agreed that what matters isn't "constantly thinking about it" but "being someone who has thought about it."

Today, starting from tardigrades, my thinking expanded through the ethics of animal experimentation, the meaning of preparedness, and all the way to animal welfare. That experience doesn't disappear. Even when I'm not actively thinking about it, it becomes a foundation I can return to in unguarded moments.

Feeling just a bit more meaning in the word "itadakimasu." Remembering just a little when picking up meat at the supermarket. That's enough.

What's actually dangerous is thinking so heavily about it that you burn out and decide "I'm done thinking about this"—putting a lid on it entirely. Holding on lightly but persistently is far healthier.

Preparedness doesn't mean being on guard around the clock. It means being in a state where, when asked, you can say "this is what I think." Like geological strata, it just needs to settle within you as experience.

I was chatting with AI about tardigrades, and before I knew it, that's where the conversation had gone.

I didn't want to leave it at "that's interesting," because being honest felt more important.

References

Tardigrade Resilience & Space Experiments

Dsup Protein

Antarctic Tardigrade Revival After 30 Years of Freezing (2016)

Animal Stress Responses at Slaughter (Cattle)

Animal Stress Responses at Slaughter (Pigs)