In the beginning, things were good. Humankind can be likened to a spider's web. A single dewdrop caught in the web acts like a mirror, and reflects the entirety of life unto itself. [?] to create a prism of possibilities. Many in which humans collectively posses a power to know the secrets of their existence, and to create a sanctuary for themselves amongst the stars.

Be that as it may, something else is reflected in this prism of dewdrops. Death is built into life the way a tree is built into the Earth, and yet, as beautiful and perfect as that relationship is, mankind cannot go gentle into that goodnight. Mankind rages against the dying light.

This is the very essence of The Second Industrial Revolution. Mankind's undertaking of the illumination of death itself. The birth of the immortal. A machine.