Translated from Tonaizhet:
The storms are endless. They tear through the new aliens and our own defenses are often inadequate. But the old technology remains unmarked and barely scratched, when it should be eroded to sand.
The Invictor commands that we ignore our orders to study it. I obey, and thus I meditate on my questions privately. Purpose, order, continuity. The old technology embodies all these great values merely in its survival, and raises more questions. What purpose? Whose order? What continuity of form?
But study is forbidden, for now. The enigma that unrolls at our feet must go unanswered, in favor of our short-term goals. But it will wait. It has waited all this time.