Aleesha spent a while time sipping her drink in microscopical amount in precise periods of time like the water-sources clock turned upside down, listening to Sil. Finally, she answered.
"Sil, the aliens, no matter what they are, aren't the matter of our talk, right? Let me sum it up - we are surrounded by morons.
Yet we are still alive. Should had killed each other, yet hesitate. Is that all a problem? Think of it as of a solution instead. And all that is a nice philosophy and whatever.
...
But you either write for New Yorker or are trying to change the subject, aren't you?"