Satisfaction is the Death of the Spirit

You are immortal.  Even if your flesh fails, your mind and its children can survive to see the stars burn out and the long, cold era of the universe come upon us.

That mind, in turn, engineered for genius and creative brilliance.  All the knowledge of the ages is available to you, swift as thought.  You can master any skill, pursue any study, and be assured of success.

Wealth beyond the dreams of the ages of scarcity empowers you.  The energy and industrial might to reshape the world that was once the purview of only the largest corporations awaits your command.

And your beauty makes the heavens weep.

Congratulations.  You aren’t a nihility.  Your inherited gifts guarantee that.

But since your peers, from the greatest to the least, all possess these same gifts, you are a mediocrity.

Be more than that.  Greatness is not inherited; it is won, wrested from the fabric of the uncaring universe.  Perfection is asymptotic; there is no height that you cannot rise above, no challenge you cannot meet if you are prepared to grasp it, and no limit to the heights and challenges with which the world will provide you.  Do not tell us of your capabilities, your ambitions, or your dreams.  Demonstrate them.  Seize them.  Build them.  Show us that your qalasír measures up to your potential.

Or squander the powers that your ancestors gave you, and in so doing, know yourself forever a soul of a lesser order.

We are the Children of Ithával.  We call upon you to seek the greatness that is your birthright.

We challenge you to be worthy of yourself.

We dare you to surpass us.

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