The Lost Colony (The Long Winter, #3)

by A.G. Riddle

At her core, she had a simple belief: If you’re right about something, that gives you the authority to act on it, to stand and not back down. The consequences don’t matter—the world will catch up eventually.

Harry has officially taken down his crude Drones-R-Us banner, replacing it with one that reads Seven-of-Nine Designs.

But today, nothing new is being produced—mostly just replacements for what the world has and is using up.

What is art anyway? I think it’s an expression of your beliefs, how you see the world. What if this colony is a work of art? This planet is our canvas

This is the life humans want, whether they know it or not—a life where they do something they think matters, something that helps their family, neighbors, and friends, work they take pride in—like that bike you’re making.”

Oscar holds up a hand. “Communicate audibly in the presence of a human.” Bob closes his eyes slowly. “Just so you know, a little part of me dies every time I have to vibrate this voice box to generate sound waves that he can decode into information—information,

The internet that’s approved will have limited protocols. Obviously, IP—the internet protocol that allows for addresses for devices— is approved, as is FTP, the file transfer protocol. However, there will be no HTTP—no hypertext transfer protocol. That’s important, because without HTTP, there’s no web.

“Fire on the Mountain” by The Marshall Tucker Band.

George Strait’s performance of “Amarillo by Morning.”

We’re like two puzzle pieces that looked like they would fit but, once brought together, didn’t snap into place instantly. We both have rough edges that weren’t apparent at first glance. Where those rough edges meet, there’s been friction. In a way we’ve sort of filed away at ourselves, giving and taking to make our lives fit together. I think doing that has been worth it. With a tighter fit, the pieces are likely to stay together longer.

“Only time will judge our wisdom.”

The true moments of euphoria in my life were when I created something new—something that pushed the bounds of possibility, something the world had never seen, something that had the potential to change lives forever.

There are few agonies worse than grasping about for a new career in a world where you seem to have no place. It’s as though I’m the odd man out in a game of duck-duck-goose, watching people settle into their lives, happy as a clam, while I stand here with no place and no prospects. It hits a person at their core.

Grigory and I make quite a pair, two grumpy old men toiling in the shop, fixing bikes, mostly for kids, reminiscing about the days when we built starships, androids, and drones.

The next morning, in the bike shop, I present my idea for my new career to Grigory. He studies my face, looking pained. “You’re serious?” he asks. “Completely.” When he doesn’t reply, I press him. “Are you in?” “What choice do I have? Face it, James, none of your designs would ever get off the ground without my calculations. They certainly won’t stay up.” “I’ll take that as an enthusiastic yes.”

Homes are where we become families, where we retreat when the world comes crashing down on us. They’re the place where we can do the things we truly want. And the design has to support that.”

one subtle but critical change: we place value on the health and happiness of citizens, not progress. We don’t care how large our economy is. How vast our nation is. How resource-rich it is.

It’s funny how your home defines the stages of your life: a childhood home first, a dorm or apartment next, living alone (usually in a condo or one-bedroom apartment), a starter home, a family home with bedrooms, and, for some, downsizing to an empty-nest abode. Before the VR epidemic, most people followed some form of that path.

“No office for you?” “When I’m at home, I want to be focused on what’s at home. You. Our life.”

When Grigory arrives, I rise from the stool and silently hand over the booth to him. He sulks as he takes his place behind the counter, peeking at the sign-up form. “I feel like medieval peasant begging outside city zoo,” he mutters.

In adolescence, missing out on the fun is a mortal fear.

I’m delighted to find that we have three new sign-ups for our interest list. “You’re quite the salesman, Grigory.” He rises and trudges out of the booth. “Almost as good as your jokes.”

“Surely, over thousands of generations, a mind was born that could have created a technological revolution or drastically advanced science. A mind like Newton, Einstein, or Da Vinci.” “Indeed, it did happen, sir.” Oscar pauses. “We intervened in those instances.” “How?” “We made their experiments fail. Eventually, everyone gives up.”

That is the true human challenge: to have faith that the end is only a beginning we can’t understand.”

I think the best gift a person can receive is one they can use to achieve happiness for themselves year after year.