Pox on both yer houses, ya silly ninnies. Anyone who has delved into the real evidence is forced ineluctably to come up with the plain conclusion that the entire planet was a gigantic pound, where genetic engineering experiments once used to gain social points by high-toned matrons of the first Galactic Confederation as conversation pieces were dumped when they were no longer the latest and greatest thing.

They used to just ship them to the incinerator but a big bleeding heart movement formed up somewhere on one of the outer planets and gradually made enough noise to stimulate legislation; as a result, the fashion-statement du jour of the patronized genetic artist could no longer just be offed in a ray-beam -- they had to set up a very expensive dump which took a lot of money. Fortunately the Confederation was still prosperous back then and could afford the terraforming expenses.

So this whacky argument is settled now. It was no more an act of God than the Bronx housing developments. It was engineered by a bunch of artsy-fartsy genetic-engineering artists for their affluent patrons, creating poetic "statements" for rich salons out of biomass, fusion tools, and some really slick software applications.