
I am an old man. I see many things on the screen today. Many strivings and strugglings. We have great metal ships now, fitted with this so-called Limnal drive. I see fever in their eyes when they speak of launching into the stars. I see a sickness spreading, a bright fire of malaise that will consume the stability of our world. 

I see the gates of that old prison opening once again. We have called it many things before: hope, discovery, ingenuity. It is a will-o-the-wisp, a siren call, drawing men and women ever onward, grinding them down.

I speak now to these lost souls. Do you see yourselves? Or has your vision lost all contrast? Do you understand how <em>closely</em> you follow your ancestors? They boarded wheeled caravans, and then wooden ships, and then airplanes, all with the same fever-bright eyes. And when they reached their destinations, they brought nothing but death. The former homes they left behind collapsed. Your homes here on Earth will collapse as well, burying those of us still in them.

They call it progress, but it is destruction. They would say &quot;I will build a new home here,&quot; while putting torch to the old home. They say &quot;we are expanding the community of man!&quot; while they tear their own communities apart.

I saw two women pass bitter words between them down at the spaceport. Sisters, coming almost to blows. One boarded a ship, closing the hatch behind her. The other turned and left, tears welling. The children of the family were split between the two women, torn in two like a wound. Is this creation?

Ask that careless man, McCreedy. On the day he first tested his drive in the skies above our planet, the world markets dropped a thousand points, then gained a thousand. And it has continued since then. What was once a steady heartbeat became fibrillation.

I saw a patient in my hospital. His body ravaged by the uncontrolled growth of his own cells. Stability gone, limbs and guts twisted by the runaway process inside of him. A system that once worked in harmony was corrupted and destroyed, utterly, by uncontrolled growth. Is this progress? Is this life?
