And death was a soft thing, soft and black, cool and sweet and gracious. He slipped into it as a swimmer slips into the surf and it closed over him a… - Clifford D. Simak

Our computers have no purpose. They are not alive.” “But if they were alive?” “Well, in that case, I suppose the ultimate purpose would be the storage of a universal data and its correlation.” “That perhaps is right,” they said. “We are living computers.” “Then there is no end for you. You’ll keep on forever.” “We are not sure,” they said. “But …” “Data,” they told me, pontifically, “is the means to one end only — arrival at the truth. Perhaps we do not need universal data to arrive at truth.

These are the stories the Dogs tell, when the fires burn high and the wind is from the north.

They sat for a moment, regarding one another; neither understanding. As if we were two aliens, thought Blaine. With viewpoints that did not come within a million miles of coinciding, and yet they both were men.