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The strip of kudzu4 below the track, gray and suffocating under countless drizzlings of concrete dust.
In case you ever need to know what kills kudzu.
Kevin looked about nine or ten.
But there was something wrong with him.
Maybe he was brain-damaged. Maybe one of those nanotech babies that went bad. Or maybe his mother just spent too much ti...
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they got real confused whenever you rotated any of those objects a few degrees. The shapes changed, contrast and shadow shifted, and it always took way too long for any of those arsenide pretenders to update its spatial maps and recognize that yes, it’s still a tree, and no, it didn’t morph into something else, dummy, you just changed your point of view.
a generalized post-traumatic addiction to hostile environments.
