“That’s the one. These creatures would have consciousness. And language. They wouldn’t be a threat to us, of course. They’d live down here on the land, use their wit to farm and feed and fend for themselves.” “So . . .” Prometheus frowned in concentration as he tried to form a coherent picture in his mind. “A race of beings like us?” “Exactly! But not as big as us. And they’d be my creation. Well, our creation.” “Our creation?” “You’re good with your hands. Another Hephaestus. My idea is that you would model these creatures out of . . . out of clay, for example. They should be shaped in our
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