Civilization is only a pretense; in the crisis, we become mere apes again, forgetting the rational biped of our pretensions and becoming instead the hairy primate at the mouth of the cave, screeching at the enemy, wishing it would go away, fingering the heavy stone that we’ll use the moment it comes close enough.
Making it up? said Marvin, swivelling his head in a parody of astonishment, Why should I want to make anything up? Life’s bad enough as it is without wanting to invent any more of it.
