At the end of the day, what do humans do?
We eat and build things and make art and kill each other, but none of that matters. All of this is utterly pointless.
What we do is multiply, clean and simple. That's all we're good for.
People are afraid that we'll all die in some catastrophe, that the apocalypse will arrive and blow humanity away. What they fail to realize is the true horror: what happens if we live.
We're already crowding this planet. Say we manage to go to another one. How long until we fill it up? This solar system? Once we've taken one, we can take two. Four. Eight.
One galaxy, then sixteen, then sixty-four.
We'll fill up any space. And eventually we won't find any more space.
You can't stop people from multiplying. And you can't just kill them off to make room. You can't put the juice back in the orange.
Then we'll really run out of space. We'll become a universe of flesh and bone and lifeblood.
And finally, the time will come and we'll all become the smallest part of the Tower which reaches ever upwards.