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"No."
"
But that is what Caterham says! He would have us live out our lives,
die one by one, till only one remains, and that one at last would die
also, and they would cut down all the giant plants and weeds, kill all
the giant under-life, burn out the traces of the Food--make an end to us
and to the Food for ever. Then the little pigmy world would be safe.
They would go on--safe for ever, living their little pigmy lives, doing
pigmy kindnesses and pigmy cruelties each to the other; they might even
perhaps attain a sort of pigmy millennium, make an end to war, make an
end to over-population, sit down in a world-wide city to practise pigmy
arts, worshipping one another till the world begins to freeze...."
In the corner a sheet of iron fell in thunder to the ground.
"Brothers, we know what we mean to do."
In a spluttering of light from the searchlights Redwood saw earnest
youthful faces turning to his son.
"
It is easy now to make the Food. It would be easy for us to make Food
for all the world."
"
You mean, Brother Redwood," said a voice out of the darkness, "that it
is for the little people to eat the Food."
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