My spirits are low in the depths of despairĪttention all Planets of the Solar FederationĢ112: I. My last hope is that with my death I may pass into the world of IĬan no longer live under the control of the Federation, but there is no other I have only the music of the waterfall to comfort me now. "I have not left this cave for days now, it has become my last refuge in my That grace this strange and wondrous land I wandered home though the silent streets Meaningless life had become with the loss of all these things. Way that had been crushed by the Federation long ago. I was overwhelmedīy both wonder and understanding as I saw a completely different way to life, a Spirit of man revealed in the lives and works of this world. "I see still the incredible beauty of the sculptured cities and the pure Yet I see the beckoning hand of the oracle as he stood at the summit of the "I guess it was a dream, but even now it all seems so vivid to me. I watched in shock and horrorĪs Father Brown ground my precious instrument to splinters beneath his feet." Rejection! Instead of praise, sullen dismissal. "Instead of the grateful joy that I expected, they were words of quiet Voice echoed throughout the silent Temple Hall.".
Father Brown rose to his feet, and his somnolent "In the sudden silence as I finished playing, I looked up to a circle of The Priests praise my name on this night. It's got wires that vibrate and give music My first harmonious sounds, and soon my own music! How different it could beįrom the music of the Temples! I can't wait to tell the priests about it!. As I struck the wires with my other hand, I produced "I learned to lay my fingers across the wires, and to turn the keys to make I had no idea what it might be, but it was I brushed away the dust of the years, and picked it up, "Behind my beloved waterfall, in the little room that was hidden beneath Our great computers fill the hallowed halls.Īll the gifts of life are held within our walls. We are the Priests, of the Temples of Syrinx The pictures that give pleasure to you eyes. Music, our work and play are all looked after by the benevolent wisdom of the I have always been awed by them, to think that every singleįacet of every life is regulated and directed from within! Our books, our "The massive grey walls of the Temples rise from the heart of everyįederation city. With acknowledgement to the genius of Ayn Rand
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