Zoe's Tale (Old Man's War, #4)

by John Scalzi

“I wish I had known that at the time,” I said, after I took this in. “I would have given you names that weren’t from a nursery rhyme.” “I like my name,” Hickory said. “It’s popular among other Obin as well. ‘Hickory’ and ‘Dickory’ both.” “There are other Obin Hickorys,” I said. “Oh, yes,” Hickory said. “Several million, now.”

Here’s what I did when my dad took me down to Phoenix: I visited my own grave.

I stomped over to Hickory and Dickory and demanded they tell Mom to let me do what I wanted; Hickory told me they would have to file a request to their government for guidance, and it would take several days, by which time I would already have to be in bed. It was my first exposure to the tyranny of bureaucracy.

It makes you feel alive, it really does, but not in a way you want to feel alive.

“Okay, you’re a perfectly normal girl,” Gretchen said. “Thank you,” I said. “A perfectly normal girl who’s had six attempted assassinations,” Gretchen said.