Kindle Notes & Highlights
Technology has changed. Humanity hasn’t. We’re still the same species that tortured and terrorized its own kind. Now we just use different tools.
“I’m not so impressed by this one. I mean, the Company could create any monster they want, but they have to steal their ideas from a twentieth-century Japanese film? Lame. Give me thirty minutes and I’ll come up with a million better ways to destroy Manhattan.”
People still seem to think the world will end with an explosion of some sort. Or armed revolutions. Or environmental collapse. But that’s not how it’s going to happen. The world as we know it will end when there’s no longer a line between the real and unreal. When we can’t trust our eyes. When seeing is no longer believing—and taste, smell and touch don’t help much either.
Technology will destroy us the day we can’t tell the difference between what should matter and what shouldn’t.
If I’ve learned nothing else over the last few months, it’s that you really shouldn’t trust billionaires. Anyone who’s stashed away that kind of loot doesn’t give a damn about you unless you happen to be one of their heirs.
The constellations passing over us are the ones the pharaohs saw. The same ones our ancestors drew on the walls of their caves. They’ll still be there, I think, when our species finally destroys itself.
“Isn’t that what fate is?” the Kishka asks. “A story that’s already been written? Someone else’s bad plot?”
“This is the future,” he announces to the camera. “From this moment forward, you won’t be able to trust your eyes. You won’t be able to tell the difference between real and unreal.”
I think some people were born to be on your team. It doesn’t matter who they are; you know them when you find them.
Only by learning history will future generations ensure that it never repeats itself.
No single person can save the world. We have to band together and save each other.
“Like I always say, humanity’s just a bunch of monkeys playing with a box of matches,” Elvis tells me. “What does that make us?” Kat asks. Elvis turns to her. “Monkeys with fire extinguishers,” he says.
