The Metamorphosis of Prime Intellect: a novel of the singularity

by Roger Williams

They were unnerved by her nakedness, by her proud and alert stance, by her forthrightness and lack of self-consciousness.

"Never is a long time,"

Lawrence felt dreadfully cold. There was a name for this feeling that clouded his judgement and filled him with a panicky sense of self-betrayal. And the name of that feeling was love.

Lawrence didn't know that it would be all right, and like many computer programmers he hated the uncertainty of not knowing.

human beings weren't so much bodies with form and mass as they were minds which interacted with an abstract world through an arbitrary interface.