One Word Kill (Impossible Times, #1)

by Mark Lawrence

He knew pi to more decimal places than any sane person would want to. I sometimes joked that it was an irrational feat of memory. A maths joke. Nobody ever got it.

We might live in a multiverse of infinite wonder, but we are what we are, and can only care about what falls into our own orbit.

I made no protest. If you’ve no intention of obeying, then why not agree.

I cared for him in the same vague way I had always cared for my future self, i.e. I made the occasional short-lived resolve to eat sensibly, I saved my pennies for the future in a high interest building society account, and I took the trouble to acquire useful qualifications. The rest had always been future-me’s business and good luck to him.