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The Church War may have killed more people, but at least then it was the zealot enemy that killed you, not your own side and stupid ignorance.
Mardis thought that three things make wars more or less terrible: the length of the peace before them, the amount of technological change, and how little the commanders know about war’s up-to-date realities.
“Dear, modest Mycroft!” Madame cried, hiding her expression with her fan. “All these years thou hast pretended to be evil, when really thou didst it to prevent another World War! Our secret hero.” It burned hearing so much of the truth at once. Jehovah had sensed a hidden good behind my actions, but He was merciful enough not to voice it.
did it to keep violence in the hands of individuals. My solution was for us all to turn back into beasts and kill each other one-on-one instead of en masse.
MASON turned cold eyes on the caged beast. “You were Mycroft’s partner in this?” “In everything.”
A serpent smile spread across Saladin’s hairless face. “Mycroft Canner.”
“Mycroft knows this already, but Apollo Mojave was my only rival for the complete affections of the Seven.” She winked at wide-eyed Saladin. “Thanks to you two, I won.”
thought. «Mycroft, where did Bridger come from? Apollo didn’t have a child. Seine wasn’t pregnant, we know that, but the resemblance is too strong, so where—»
(I realize, reader, I should apologize for deceiving you in my first book, with Sniper’s pronoun. Before I received its chapter, I had not imagined it would consent to have its sex revealed, so, in the first half of my history, forced to choose between the standard genders, it seemed best to give Ockham’s rival and successor the same pronoun as Ockham.)
set-set
Cousins’ Feedback Bureau, and they think this will expose an important secret, whose nature they did not specify, but which is likely to result in the dissolution of the Cousins.
“No joke. They want us to trigger the retirement of Bureau Chief Darcy Sok, to deflect the investigation away from whatever the CFB is hiding.”
Eureka Weeksbooth, not Sidney who attends? Eureka you know, and the two are as interchangeable as two ants,
Eureka Weeksbooth was born to this bash’, sent to set-set training for this purpose,
am the twelfth O.S. I do not intend to be the last.”
“one of us should say what we’re all thinking. ¿Isn’t this sort of thing exactly why we killed our ba’pas?”
but this is the same scene as five years ago. We all agreed back then that our ba’pas deciding to choose for themselves when to use O.S. instead of taking Presidential orders was reason enough to … ensure they wouldn’t be around to follow through on that decision.”
Typers,
“O.S. was created to serve the Humanists. If subsequent Humanist leaders judged that the Hive was best served by lending this power to two allied Hives,
“We serve the Humanist Membership,” Sniper stated simply. “They elected Ganymede.”
If switching methods every time let an amateur like Mycroft Canner kill seventeen people in a week with the whole world chasing them, I think the nine best-trained killers on Earth can manage one hit without being caught by an uptight Mason and a perverted Blacklaw.”
who owe you seventeen lifetimes of service have no excuse.
“It’s hot in here.” What you cannot see from sitting inside Mukta is that, for some minutes, Cato’s hands have been playing with the controls of some mad devices he wears strapped to his forearm under his sleeve. “It’s hotter in here than the system thinks it should be,” Cato repeated, “I’d say two point six degrees hotter than seven people should make it.”
“What? Carlyle!” Thisbe recognized her first, rising with a despairing condescension on her face. “Oh, you idiot!” It was Carlyle indeed, shivering like a fevered child as the drug magnified the after-stress of Dominic’s ‘session,’ a cocktail worse than vertigo. It has been four hours since we left Carlyle, switching off her tracker in Dominic’s cell, and the flight from Paris to Cielo de Pájaros takes barely one. Lesley sighed like a melting snowdrift. “Again? I really liked this one, too.”
“Eureka and Sidney can smell what’s rotten in the CFB; you think they couldn’t smell what’s rotten in the Conclave?
“Madame? No. No, we didn’t know about Madame. Julia still doesn’t. At least, I think they don’t.” “Who are you fighting, then?” “Danaë Mitsubishi.” “Danaë Mitsubishi?”
“What you didn’t hear is that they’re all set-sets.” “Set-sets?”
Carlyle closed her eyes and thrust at her throat with the full force of both trembling hands. Smooth as a diving fish, the edgeless trick blade collapsed into the hollow handle with a pathetic squeak. Slowly, softly, a laugh rose from the depths of Thisbe, swelling like a downpour as a vicious smile bloomed across her cheeks. “Thisbe, what?” Carlyle stared uncomprehending, testing the knife again and watching the fake blade slide in and out of the trick hilt. Thisbe raised her hands, applauding clumsily as the fervor of her laughter made her arms weak. “Beautiful performance! I should have let
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“Did you imagine Bridger was the only one with powers? The child plays with toys. I’m a grown-up, I play with grown-ups.” “A witch?” “You needed punishment. You can’t just waltz into my house, or meet with enemies like Dominic, without permission.” Thisbe prowled around Carlyle, the cat circling a sparrow too wounded to flee. “Let’s get things clear here, Carlyle: this house is my domain. I may bring in strays like you, and Esmerald Revere, and Mycroft Canner, but that doesn’t make you any more important than those plastic toy soldiers. You jump when I say jump, you dance when I want you to
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She is a witch. I told you from the start. I still can’t make it sound sane.
Why would this stage of Gods and Emperors suddenly contain, of all backwards absurdities, a witch? I fear, abjectly, and will fear still, even if you tell me limping science can explain away her spellcraft.
they are wizards, even if they use science to deny it. Just so, when a black-hearted spinster lures a stray priest to her bedchamber to rape her soul and laugh, she is a witch.
Now you know I’m watching. You know I can snap my fingers, speak the magic words, and … what would be the best threat? Instant death is boring, a stroke maybe? Pain and paralysis? Insanity can be fun, leaving you a nice lunatic babbling about the end of the world? Is that scary enough? Yes, that’s the right level of twitching.
They figure it out about once a week on average, but I don’t let them remember.
“Caesar’s sworn an oath to protect the three billion Masons who are living now, not in the future, now. If I hadn’t killed you, Caesar would have had to do it. Wouldn’t that be worse? Being the one that killed you hurts more than just losing you, a thousand times more. It’s better for the world that I’m the one who has to live with that, not Cornel MASON.”
Even after the battle, given the choice between cyanide’s painless end and one last hour facing the tortures Saladin and I had prepared, he chose life.
we three—Apollo dying, I expecting soon to follow, and Saladin long dead—
think the answer is a person called Jehovah Epicurus Donatien D’Arouet Mason.”
The Censor and Anonymous have realized, and Felix Faust and Papadelias aren’t far behind. I’m sure Madame is at the heart of it, and Caesar…” I paused. “Caesar is finally running out of ways to pretend they don’t see.”
it was their plan. when the saneer-weeksbooth bash’ is arrested, they’ll control all global transit, just in time to exploit the chaos!> “It isn’t the Utopians.”
Rarely in my history, reader, have I been tempted so to lie. It was Utopia who supplied this last inch of fuse which let the spark reach the powder keg.
“Death of Akker Anaba in a car crash in 2392 enabled the Greenpeace-Mitsubishi merger? That’s more than sixty years ago!”
“Death of Gillian Joiner Dao in a car crash in 2262 enabled the Olympian-Hollyworld merger which created the Humanists. That’s … how far back does this go?”
Two thousand, two hundred and four: in the coldness of a history book it must seem like nothing—Stalin killed as many in one weekend—
Papa took a breath and held it, one last pause. “Mycroft was right, then.” “What?” Martin asked, already pale. “To smear blood all over the Altar of Peace in Romanova. Three hundred years of world peace. Don’t you see it, Martin? This is why.”
“That’s Epicurus Mason on the line, isn’t it?” Papa asked, the Greek choosing the Greek name from Jehovah’s many. “They’re watching? They heard?” “Yes. Yes, Dominus heard it all.” Papadelias frowned sadly. “Are they all right?” Martin’s voice quavered. “No-o. But neither is the world.”
“I bet the Utopians would cover it up if you asked them. And you certainly could, Martin.
From far across the Earth, His own kind words. “Protect Harper Morrero.” <who?> Aldrin’s digital eyes glared. “The Cousin you just tried to kill, had you forgotten?”
Harper Morrero dies, Darcy Sok will resign from the CFB, and the press around the Cousins will locust nap. Go dormant,” they translated.
“Two hundred and forty-four years ago, the Six-Hive Global Transit Network, developed by the two Olympian doctors Orion Saneer and Tungsten Weeksbooth, started using Mitsubishi-trained Cartesian set-sets.
