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the Thunderhead was able to upload and store all experiences and memories of just about every individual on the planet. In this way, it could better comprehend the human condition and prevent the tragic loss of a lifetime of memories—a fate that fell on everyone back in the mortal age.
The last time his nanites had uploaded his memories to the Thunderhead’s database was just before meeting her. That had been intentional. She had wanted him off-grid. Now she regretted it.
“Tyger,” she said, “I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.” “Wow,” said the Tyger construct. “That sucks.” “Yes,” said Scythe Rand. “It does.”
By our very nature, we are both incapable of being incorrect. However, my correctness is much more functional than yours.”
All the walls were glass, both internal and external.
He was a man with no convictions, willing to throw his lot in with any winning side. Goddard could appreciate that. But a man like that needed to be reminded of his place.
“Because ever since the Thunderhead went silent, people are listening.”
“It doesn’t matter, Robert,” said Underscythe Franklin. “We’re bound by the commandments—this thought experiment of yours can’t be applied to the real world.”
“But when he’s in turmoil—when things are going badly for him—when he faces that backlash of unintended consequences, you’re the one he always turns to for comfort and clarity.”
“His times will be troubled again. And when they are, you need to be ready to help shape those decisions.”
We never know what choices will lead to defining moments in our lives,”
slightest shrug can shake the world.”
However, there were some applications that were denied. Tonists, for instance, were denied bias protection, because theirs was deemed to be a manufactured religion, rather than an authentic one. Lifestyle unsavories were denied, because now that everyone was unsavory, they were just part of a global reality. And individuals with strong genetic leanings were denied on the grounds that no group should be defined on the basis of their genetics.
Come.on.
#381,761
Whoa
She hates Constantine for giving her hope that she might have any influence on Goddard. She hates Tyger for being so goddamn naive that he could have allowed her to play him so easily. She hates the old guard, and the new order, and the Thunderhead, and every last person she ever has gleaned, or will ever glean.
she absolutely refuses to hate herself, because that would crush her, and she will never allow herself to be crushed.
Morrison was always put off by that grin of hers. It made you feel like she knew something you didn’t and couldn’t wait to see the look on your face when you found out.
“Especially,” added Rand, “one that you win.” It made Morrison think of the games he liked to watch, where the outcome was already determined, so he knew which team to root for.
What if their alternate solution is worse than the problem?
He was a scythe, and he flatly refused to have anything to do with a work of the Thunderhead.
He has no idea that Thunderhead cares for him and wants to help.
He vowed to live at least as long as Goddard lived, if only to secretly spite him.
The trouble they all had living in the moment, in spite of the fact that the moment was all they had.
“But you’ve done much good for it,” she reminded him. “And received no reward for my efforts, only pain.” “I didn’t think you were doing it to be rewarded.” Faraday stood up from the table, indicating that the meal and the conversation were over.
It was not exactly circular logic. More like spiral. An accepted lie that spun in upon itself until truth and fiction disappeared into a singularity of who the hell cares, as long as I’m happy?
for the life of her, Loriana didn’t know whether she should be positively joyful, or absolutely terrified.
power for power’s sake is a consuming addiction.
He would devour the world whole, and still be unsatisfied.”
But when the highest authority was the perpetrator, who was there to stop it?
Then she turned and strode out, the long train of her sheer silk robe too weighed down with opals to flow gracefully behind her, as it once did. Now it just dragged on the ground.
Hadn’t Scythe Curie cooked meals for the families of those she’d gleaned? Perhaps Scythe Morrison could make them dessert.
“Observe, learn everything you can, and then, when you do move, you move decisively. And I know, when the time comes, you will.”
“Not even the Thunderhead can be sure about tomorrow,” Jeri told her. “Let’s be satisfied with today.”
“I want him gleaned just as much as you do. But gleaning should not be entertainment.” To which Goddard said with an infuriating grin, “It’s entertaining to me.”
“We’re exploring the possibility of building a wall to stem the exodus.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” Goddard said. “Only idiots build walls.
“I want you to unlearn everything you think you know about that event—because as I said, the official histories can’t be trusted.
It forces you to struggle through the frustration and do things the hard way. So much more satisfying.
“You are a terrible person,” the Thunderhead said. “You are a wonderful person.” “Well, which is it?” Greyson demanded. And the response, as faint as faint could be, came back to him—not as an answer, but as another question. “Why can’t you see that the answer is both?”
“Well, then,” Greyson said, still a bit belligerent from their earlier conversation, “you’re not a god, are you? Because a god forgives.”
“Correction must be about lifting one up from one’s poor choices and prior deeds.
