The Future Has No Indians

Music: Fugue in F Minor. By Dimitri Shostakovich.  Sequenced by J. Marques.

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The future has no Indians, No Pacific coast. Its mines are planets, Its fire stars. Huge colonies hover Like worshippers, Arms outstretched, While galleons sail On solar wind. There are forty quintillion Amazon jungles Per single, sated termite, And the only things People tend to run out of Are numbers. But far out at the edges, In ships that cube the speed of light, A few daring scouts Search desperately For Indians.