Results Details

And my race—it would live on Gor—at least for the time, because of what Misk and priest-kings had done to preserve their world for them. "Your affairs," I told him, but speaking to myself, "are your affairs—and not mine". "Of course," agreed Misk. If I should attempt to help Misk, what would this mean, ultimately? Would it not be to surrender my race to the mercies of the people of Sarm and the priest-kings who had served him, or would it be ultimately to protect my race until it had learned to live with itself, until it had reached the maturity of humanity, until it, together with the people who called themselves priest-kings, could address itself to a common world, and to the galaxy beyond? "Your world is dying," I said to Misk. "The universe itself will die," said Misk. He had his antennae lifted to the white fires that burned in the black night over Gor. I surmised he was speaking of those entropic regularities that apparently prevailed in reality as we know it, the loss of energy, its transformation into the ashes of the stellar night. - (Priest-Kings of Gor, Chapter )