Taylor, I'm telling you to climb off my back.
And that completes my final report until we reach touchdown.
We're now on full automatic, in the hands of the computers.
I've tucked my crew in for the long sleep and I'll be joining them
soon.
In less than an hour we'll finish our sixth month out of Cape Kennedy.
Six months in deep space.
By our time, that is.
According to Dr. Hasslein's theory of time in a vehicle traveling nearly the speed of light, the Earth has aged nearly 700 years since we left it, while we've aged hardly at all.
It may be so.
This much is probably true.
The men who sent us on this journey are long since dead and gone.
You who are reading me now are a different breed.
I hope a better one.
I leave the 20th century with no regrets, but... one more thing.
If anybody's listening, that is.
Nothing scientific. It's... purely personal.
Seen from out here, everything seems different.
Time bends.
Space is... boundless.
It squashes a man's ego.
I feel lonely.
That's about it.
Tell me, though...
Does Man, that marvel of the universe, that glorious paradox who has sent me to the stars, still make war against his brother, keep his neighbours’ children starving?
Brent :
Taylor!
Taylor :
You're Brent...!
Brent :
My God, Taylor!
Taylor :
Brent!
How in the hell did you get here?
Brent :
Spaceship, ape city, subway--
Taylor :
By yourself?
Brent :
No, Nova found me.
Taylor :
Nova? Is she with you? Where?
Brent :
I don't know. They separated us. They tried to make me kill her.
Mutant :
Mr. Taylor, Mr. Brent, we're peaceful people.
We don't kill our enemies.
We get our enemies to kill each other.
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