Children of Time (Children of Time, #1)

by Adrian Tchaikovsky

There is nothing about what we do that is natural. If we prized the natural we would still be hunting Spitters in the wilderness, or falling prey to the jaws of ants, instead of mastering our world. We have made a virtue of the unnatural.

What is it like to be you? A question nobody can step far enough out of their own frame of reference to answer.