And a hell it still is, even more of a hell than at first, and it'll be still more of a hell--for these machines and these slave-driving capitalists with their luxury-crazy families are worse than wars and aristocrats.
They make the men work, and the women and the children--make 'em all work as the Pharaohs never sweated the wretches they set at building the pyramids.

The nearer the structure gets toward completion, the worse the driving and the madder the haste.

Some day the world'll be worth living in--probably just about the time it's going to drop into the sun.
Meanwhile, it's a hell of a place.

We're a race of slaves, toiling for the benefit of the race of gods that'll some day be born into a habitable world and live happily ever afterwards.

Science will give them happiness--and immortality, if they lose the taste for the adventure into the Beyond." Arthur's brain heard clearly enough to remember afterwards; but Schulze's voice seemed to be coming through a thick wall.