"You're talking about human beings!" Donald exploded.
"And what makes a human being different from any other animal?" I asked. "Would you hesitate to dispose of an animal that was unfit to breed?"
He sighed. "No," he said. "But that's not the same."
"What's the difference? And realize, it's done for your betterment."
"Just a bunch of murderous little altruists," Donald sneered. "Out of the kindness of your cold-blooded hearts—"
"That's the trouble with you lower orders," I interrupted. "You get emotional. Your observations have no basis in logic. Actually, the Galaxy wouldn't even quiver if the lot of you disappeared tomorrow. Yet you think the universe rotates about your heads."
"I didn't—"
"Don't interrupt," I snapped. "You—your race—your whole pitiful little civilization is ready mentally and almost ready technologically to commit suicide. If we came and saved you, you would owe us eternal gratitude, but I doubt if we'd get it."
"You wouldn't," Donald assured me. "There wouldn't be a human alive who wouldn't hate you."
"I realize that—and that is one of the reasons I should report your world unfavorably to the council. We could hardly take on an altruism mission like this unless we felt that our work would be appreciated. It would be better to let you kill yourselves."