Slade House

by David Mitchell

Mum says I have to learn how to Blend In more, but there aren’t any classes for Blending In, not even on the town library notice board.

If I had 50p for every time Mum’s told me that, I’d now have £3.50.

“Dream-people always say they’re real, so pardon me for not believing you.”

People are masks, with masks under those masks, and masks under those, and down you go.

“Is a mind X-rayable? Is hunger? Is jealousy? Time?”

War is ends justifying means.

“from feudal lords to slave traders to oligarchs to neocons to predators like you. All of you strangle your consciences, and ethically you strike yourselves dumb.”