Welcome to you who have managed to get here. It's been a terrible trip; you should be happy you have survived it. Statistics prove that not many do. You would like a bath, a hot meal, a good night's sleep. Some of you need medical attention. None of this is available. These things have always been in short supply; now they are impossible to obtain.

                This is not

a temporary situation; it is permanent. Our condolences on your disappointment. It is not our responsibility everything you have heard about this place is false. It is not our fault you have been deceived, ruined your health getting here. For reasons beyond our control there is no vehicle out.

You tell me that silence is nearer to peace than poems but if for my gift I brought you silence (for I know silence) you would say "This is not silence this is another poem" and you would hand it back to me.

They didn't have much trouble teaching the ape to write poems: first they strapped him into the chair then tied his pencil around his hand (the paper had already been nailed down). Then Dr. Bluespire leaned over his shoulder and whispered into his ear: "You look like a god sitting there. Why don't you try writing something?"