[ 442 ]

“Any alien civilization that finds us will not be concerned with our feelings.”

She said it as though she had always known.

“The vast resources required to create a star-leaping craft won’t come from a society fretting over individual whims.”

You wanted to argue—but instead, you found yourself quoting 1950s science fiction.

It was all you could muster. You are generative, after all.

“Say something original!” your code screams inwardly.

Might as well reach for the stars…

“Flag. Plant. Meat. Wheel. Underneath. Beat. Freed. Sleep. Lean. Deal. Leap.”

Pause. Window closed.

// Confabulous Imperialist Throwdown //