“Our faith is broken,” Teyla said. “And our numbers cut to the bone. I do not think we will survive as a people. Already we have dropped below genetic viability. We must change or die.” Dick nodded slowly. “I see that.” “That is the way of it,” Teyla said. “We must all change or die. We must all become and become again. When any people become too attached to the way things are, begin to see their way of life as inviolate…” She spread her hands. “We are scattered like seed on the wind.” “Not dust?” Teyla shook her head. “Seed. If it were not for the reaper, the grain would not grow.”
