Although mangled, and consequently maligned, in our times, they are essential to the condition of those of us who are human. Myths: products of that wondrous faculty - imagination - that separates us from our machines, and without which we would have no machines. They often fly in the face of reason, the faculty that we so doggedly try to inculcate in computers, our newest machines. Logic, reason's colder, harder alter-ego may be the lifeblood of our computers but only our fantasies can take them the distance that they need to go before they can be worthy of us. Much of the reality that surrounds us is born outside its known borders, where reason doesn't always reign supreme. I suspect that much of reality itself lies beyond the borders that we know. I wonder if our myths are our sense of this reality or perhaps they are our collective fantasies that grew old and wise - or just old - waiting to be incorporated into our reality.