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Brother Dominic chuckled at my stammering petition for an audience with He Who Had Shattered My Illusory World, and he consented at once to teach me of the real world, and what my place in it must be if I wished to have access to our Master. Dominic had pets in those days, gifts from Madame, a lion, a leopard, and a wolf bitch, almost tame, and as he lectured me on the Enlightenment, and secret politics, and the rules a slave must follow when addressing God, his pet beasts squabbled, competing to lick the meat-sweet monthly drippings from his cunt.
Dominic is a true creature
“You’re angry because I slept with your brother? Your husband sleeps with your brother. Everyone sleeps with your brother. That’s what your brother’s for!”
DAMN GET HIS ASS
Has it not occurred to you that, thanks to modern science, there are ways a sperm and egg can meet other than the customary dick up vagina?”
“Do you see time like matter, then?” Carlyle tested, growing eager. “Moments like atoms, so old things have more time matter? Or is it connected, like a string?”
“You know the old science fiction stories where the pilot rides inside a giant human-shaped robot. Apollo’s Iliad was set in the future, a space war where Troy is on the Moon, with Hector and Achilles facing off in giant robot suits and smashing asteroids. It was badly written, too. If you saw a chapter, Caesar, you would laugh.”
Oh my god, Apollo was a mecha fan.
Homer’s heroes could have that, be that important to the course of the war, because they were part god. Apollo’s future version had cyborg pilots bonded to special giant robots that only they could use, which made them overwhelmingly powerful compared to common soldiers. In Apollo’s version the gods were powerful A.I. robots, so a human pilot in a giant robot suit was literally wearing a prosthetic god. There were only a handful of pilots who could do it, so when one left or entered battle, or switched sides, that individual decision could change the face of the war.” Caesar breathed deep.
...more
I fear I would read this and unironically enjoy it.
all technology is a prosthetic god, a set of tools we weak humans strap on to give ourselves the powers we crave: computers for omniscience; trackers for omnipresence; medicine for immortality; armor for invulnerability; guns for Heaven’s wrathful thunderbolts.
His universe must be dying too, somewhere unreachable, those marvels He had half explained to me in shards of failing language: gradients of complexity, sentiences reveling in themselves without the impediments of Distance or of Time, a better universe, infinity of Good and Kindness such as we will never know, lost.
Dominic’s lunge grazed Sniper’s arm. “Enough, worm!”
Just for reference: this is a fight scene between mh two favorite characters, and I'm rooting for Dominic, though we'll see how that goes.
prepared to storm the roof. Now they could only watch their quarry soar over their heads to safety like some destructive angel, which does Providence’s dirty work, then retreats to heaven beyond the reach of Earthly law.
The master Brillist used German with the boy, that modular, semielastic tongue that gives all nouns the capitalized dignity which its bastard cousin English reserves only for names, Gods, concepts, and the selfish I.
English IS a bastard tongue
