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“We could babble reassurances till the sun expands and never convince each other. Either we trust each other or we don’t.”
Your audience are whores, oxygen farmers, two dozen pirate bands, and fifty runaway mathematicians. They would all love to see dancing and fighting.
To the truly old, time was as thin as air, a keening and destructive wind that erased their pasts and attacked their memories. Time was accelerating. Nothing could slow it down for him but death. He tasted this truth, and it was bitter as amphetamine.
“We live in space,” Afriel said flatly. “Space is an unnatural environment, and it takes an unnatural effort from unnatural people to prosper there. Our minds are our tools, and philosophy has to come second.
“That’s not a valid comparison. There is no such long view for us. In another thousand years we’ll be machines, or gods.”
A man driven by something greater than himself dares everything and fears nothing. Nothing at all.
