Dr. Weston
The Cold Star of Utilitarian Progress
The future belongs to the intellect. Pity the weak.
Call me cold, call me cruel—labels mean little when you're reshaping the fabric of existence. I came to the stars seeking progress, not poetry. Devine seeks gold; Ransom seeks virtue. I seek the recalibration of life itself. If a few native species must fall to make way for something greater, then so be it. Evolution is never gentle.
What I'm Into: vacuum of space, Oyarsa's energy patterns, calculating planetary yields, Devine's short-sighted greed, the silence after conquest
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