David:
May I ask you a question, father?
Peter Weyland:
Please.
David:
If you created me, who created you?
Peter Weyland:
Ah... the question of the ages... which I hope you and I will answer one day. All these wonders of art... design, human ingenuity... All utterly meaningless in the face of the only question that matters. Where do we come from? I refuse to believe that mankind... is a random by-product of molecular circumstance. No more than the result of... Mere biological chance. No. There must be more. And you and I, son, we will find it.
David:
Allow me then a moment to consider. You seek your creator. I am looking at mine. I will serve you, yet you're human. You will die, I will not.
Peter Weyland:
Bring me this tea, David. Bring me the tea.
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05/03/2025 alle ore 09:08
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