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There are moments in history when entire empires, whole branches of the future rest precariously on the words of a single person. Usually, they’re not even aware of it. They don’t have time to plan or consider. They simply open their mouths and speak, and the universe takes on a new pattern.
“Drank bleach. Implant rejected after five days.” “What’s bleach?” asks Clara. “No idea,” replies Emory, passing her the chart. “It was probably delicious, though.”
“Don’t take his side,” declares Emory hotly. “You came out here, which means you’re on my side, and being on my side requires you to be as angry with him as I am.”
“You only answer questions you want to answer, and you think the rest of us are stupid enough not to notice.
