I was playing in a cave. Like a prisoner I was chained. We were many. Many prisoners chained and held
immobile since our rookie years. Arms and legs were stretched and held in place - heads fixed in place with lots of
money. I could not turn left or right. I was compelled to gaze at a wall in front of me.
Thucydides: This war became inevitable at a certain point when the power of the players reached such a point as to
alarm the owners enough to start a war to check the growth of that players power.
Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it;
It is not meet you know how owners like you.
You are not wood, you are not stones, but men;
And, being men, bearing the owners´proposal,
It will inflame you, it will make you mad:
'Tis good you know not that you are their employees;
For, if you should, O, what would come of it!
- Tell me, can you give us a good product?
- Yes, if you give me plenty of money.
- The deuce! Always money! I think they have nothing else to say except money, money, money! Always that same
word in their mouth, money! They always speak of money! It's their pillow companion, money!
Wherever I turn, I see evidences of my advancing years. I visited lately my investment, and protested about how
much money had been spent on the dilapidated building. My comisioner insisted that the flaws were not due to his
own negligence, that he was "doing everything possible, but the house was old." And this was the house which
grew under my own hands! What has the future in store for me, if stones of my own age are already crumbling?