i was dropped here by a space pod as a baby and i want to go home

Having been a babe for so long, I have some expertise. Even when people pay extra attention, try extra-hard to see things your way, they aren't ever relating with you. They're unerringly relating with what they want, with what serves them. You might think they know you well enough to not automatically assume the worst when you jar their expectations with an expressed point of view, but... well... even if they do, they can't -- life and death can't -- be jarred like that, and must -- life and death must -- do something (generally, say something) to put your point of view into some subordinate position to their own. You can't make them see anything. You can't make them rise above their own demons, their own coveted delusion. You can't. It's up to them.

People choose from their own repertoires to lessen cognitive dissonance in all but the most benign situations, but really even those, too, too much of the time. Challenges to already-held beliefs -- outrageously -- threaten the sense of identity, the ego. This bodes spectacularly ill for the ability of humans to unite around any common goal.

This is why transcendence is mandatory.

Or why the mother ship simply must return to take me home.