It has come to my attention that some have lately called me a collaborator, as if such a term were shameful. I ask you what greater endeavor exists than that of collaboration? In our current unparalleled enterprise, refusal to collaborate is simply a refusal to grow and insistence on suicide if you will. Did the lungfish refuse to breathe air? It did not. It crept forth boldly while it's brethren remained in the blackest ocean abyss with lidless eyes forever staring at the dark. Ignorant and doomed despite their eternal vigilance. Would we model ourselves on the trilobite? Are all the accomplishments of humanity fated to be nothing more than a layer of broken, plastic shards thinly strewn across a fossil bed? Sandwiched between the Burgess shale and an eons worth of mud? In order to be true to our nature and out destiny we must aspire to greater things. We have outgrown our cradle. It is futile to cry for mother's milk when our true sustenance awaits us among the stars.