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but the system is designed to keep the poor and illiterate in their place.
“Power dictates acceptability,”
Every gods-damned month her uterus would tear itself to pieces, send flashes of rage through her entire body, and make her bloated, clumsy, light-headed, and worst of all, weak.
What a difference an accident of birth made. In another world she might have grown up at an estate like this, with all of her desires within reach. In another world, she might have been born into power.
“If there is a divine creator, some ultimate moral authority, then why do bad things happen to good people?
“Hi,” said Altan Trengsin. “What was that about losers and rejects?”
A rational explanation eluded her. Because the answer could not be rational. It was not founded in military strategy. It was not because of a shortage of food rations, or because of the risk of insurgency or backlash. It was, simply, what happened when one race decided that the other was insignificant.
And if your opponent was not human, if your opponent was a cockroach, what did it matter how many of them you killed? What was the difference between crushing an ant and setting an anthill on fire? Why shouldn’t you pull wings off insects for your own enjoyment? The bug might feel pain, but what did that matter to you?
If you were the victim, what could you say to make your tormentor recognize you as human? How did you get your enemy to recognize you at all?
“You humans always think you’re destined for things, for tragedy or for greatness. Destiny is a myth. Destiny is the only myth. The gods choose nothing. You chose.
“They aren’t people,” she whispered. “They’re animals. I want you to make them burn. Every last one.”
I have become something wonderful, she thought. I have become something terrible. Was she now a goddess or a monster? Perhaps neither. Perhaps both.
