The other night I read a ten page science fiction story from 1957. The piece was called “The War is Over,” and it was written by a guy named Algis Budrys.

In a short span, Budrys created an alien world of centuries-old cybernetic organisms that were following an apparently human-introduced instinct to build a rocket ship to transport one of their fellow beings into the stars, carrying a small rusted metal box of unknown contents. No one in this world, including the rocket pilot, who, by the way, admitted to not knowing how to even fly a rocket, knew the reason for this endeavor.