I consider your view confused rather than harsh. First you talk about free will:
This knowledge does not bother me in the least. It declares that I have free will. That I - and everyone else - are responsible for our own actions.
Yet, the more I thought about it I had to wonder if we really had free will. Are we any more "free" than any other animal? Our personalities, all that we consider ourselves to be, is little more than electrical impulses within the meat of our bodies. As animals we're limited in endless ways by our very nature.
Which would you consider to be more "free" a normal individual or someone who has a debilitating case of paranoid schizophrenia. In the end, what's the difference between that person and yourself? They appear crippled by their limitations, but in the end are you really any different? Is it not merely a matter of degree?
And you seem to think that we don't have it. Then you talk about your decisions:
Whats more, while we may face biological limitations, we are not like the other animals. We have methods of overcoming those limitations through science and technology. Should we not embrace them? What if we someday discovered a way to grant ourselves theoretical immortality? Should it not be taken? What if we could overcome our physical and mental limitations, taking our evolution away from nature and placing it firmly in our hands? Should it not be taken?
Some slither of hope remains within me that such things might be possible - that humanity might escape its fate through technology and science. This is what helps me from becoming apathetic and uncaring. The knowledge that it might be possible, even if unlikely, we should still push forward as a species and as individuals. After all, even if we fail - what do we have to lose?
If we don't have free will, you cannot choose whether or not to be apathetic and caring. You have no decisions to make. The question of free will is difficult, but I don't know of anyone who lives their life as if we don't have it. Your writing indicates that you actually believe we do; or, you haven't really thought it through.
Camus struggled with these issues in the book,
The Myth of Sisyphus. He begins by asking whether or not suicide is the only rational act. His decision is based on his look at a non-caring universe and what it means for humanity. Based on what you've written and comparing it to Camus' thoughts, he seems to have thought it through more thoroughly. He ends up with an optimistic view of life. A brief excerpt from the end of the
essay of the same name:
One does not discover the absurd without being tempted to write a manual of happiness. "What!---by such narrow ways--?" There is but one world, however. Happiness and the absurd are two sons of the same earth. They are inseparable. It would be a mistake to say that happiness necessarily springs from the absurd. Discovery. It happens as well that the felling of the absurd springs from happiness. "I conclude that all is well," says Edipus, and that remark is sacred. It echoes in the wild and limited universe of man. It teaches that all is not, has not been, exhausted. It drives out of this world a god who had come into it with dissatisfaction and a preference for futile suffering. It makes of fate a human matter, which must be settled among men.
All Sisyphus' silent joy is contained therein. His fate belongs to him. His rock is a thing. Likewise, the absurd man, when he contemplates his torment, silences all the idols. In the universe suddenly restored to its silence, the myriad wondering little voices of the earth rise up. Unconscious, secret calls, invitations from all the faces, they are the necessary reverse and price of victory. There is no sun without shadow, and it is essential to know the night. The absurd man says yes and his efforts will henceforth be unceasing. If there is a personal fate, there is no higher destiny, or at least there is, but one which he concludes is inevitable and despicable. For the rest, he knows himself to be the master of his days. At that subtle moment when man glances backward over his life, Sisyphus returning toward his rock, in that slight pivoting he contemplates that series of unrelated actions which become his fate, created by him, combined under his memory's eye and soon sealed by his death. Thus, convinced of the wholly human origin of all that is human, a blind man eager to see who knows that the night has no end, he is still on the go. The rock is still rolling.
I leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain! One always finds one's burden again. But Sisyphus teaches the higher fidelity that negates the gods and raises rocks. He too concludes that all is well. This universe henceforth without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile. Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night filled mountain, in itself forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.