After a night of writing, here are the Google searches I had open in my browser.
It seems a somewhat scattershot and varied list, but each search was relevant to the chapter in some way. It's not until the last few that they seem to lend themselves at all to a science fiction story.
Each of these searches was the result of a relatively simple question. For example, "What does it look like where jungle meets savannah? And is there a name for that?"
At least nine times I asked myself a question and reached out to the internet for an answer. This isn't just how I write on the weekends -- it's how I live. All of human knowledge is a skillful internet search away, and I seem to reach for answers to even most banal of questions.
It makes me wonder if I could have hacked it as a writer in the 1970s or 80s. Would I have posted up at my local library in the evenings, searching the stacks for answers?
Would I be a little more self-sufficient? I knew sequoias and redwoods were very large trees. Google didn't really tell me anything new there.
Or would I be more accepting of simply getting things wrong? I didn't know how petrified wood was formed, and chances are, most of my readers wouldn't either!
Is this why my parents used to own encyclopedias?
I don't know the answers to any of those questions. Maybe I should Google them.
P.S.
A strong enough microwave emitter will boil a human to death, in case you were wondering.