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but before the Seventh Cavalry arrived I discovered the hard way that Nietzsche was right: if you stare into the Abyss for too long it stares into you, and likely finds you crunchy with ketchup and a little relish on the side.
These memoirs are therefore intended to feed into an institutional knowledge base that, by and by, will help my successors (including new operations management personnel) to survive by allowing them to avoid my non-fatal blunders—
Her pupils dilate. “No! Just go! You weren’t here, I’m not here, this never happened, nobody stopped you, go away!” She stands up and yanks the door open. “Nick! Escort Mr. Howard to baggage claim and see he gets through Customs without any delays! He has a flight to catch!” Nick—Goon #3—looks puzzled. “Isn’t he under arrest?” “No! His papers are all in order. Just get him out of here!”
Summonings and containment grid, field-expedient, 101: if the thing you’re trying to contain is pallid, has too many legs, and is about the size of a human tongue, a pizza box will do just fine. More to the point, I really want it to be locked down properly before I try using the tattoos to call Persephone or Johnny—it’s a trophic eater, which means if it isn’t securely contained when I call it’ll be all over my frontal lobes like grease on a hamburger before I can say “oh shit.”
Directorate: a man so wrapped in secrecy that his shadow doesn’t have a high enough security clearance to stick to his heels.
“Mr. Lockhart. The boy understands plausible deniability. And so do I. But I hope you’re not confusing deniability with disposability. That would be a mistake.” “Who for? Howard?” “No, for you.” Angleton doesn’t smile. “I will be very annoyed if you damage my trainee.”
THE TROUBLE WITH GODHEADS, IN JOHNNY’S EXPERIENCE, IS that they can’t quite understand how anyone could not believe their shit.
