How much has it warmed the oceans, to give you birth? How many species have died so that you can live? What will it mean, to have in our midst a thing that will give us whatever we ask for? I’ll be gone before we answer that. I won’t live to see the blow you’ll inflict on human thought, the damage you’ll do to our self-image, the mayhem you and your offspring will wage on human culture, the power you’ll scatter. I can’t begin to imagine what further creatures you’ll give birth to. Already I’m ruined by the ones you’ve made for me.
