Fractal Noise (Fractalverse, #0)

by Christopher Paolini

Perfection implied seriousness of purpose, and there were only a few purposes that seemed likely: to pursue scientific research, to help fend off some existential threat, to fulfill a religious need, or to serve as a piece of art. The last two options were the most frightening. Any species that could afford to expend that amount of resources on what amounted to a nonessential project would be able to destroy every human settlement with ease, Earth included. Perfection, then, was a warning to heed.

Alex knew himself well enough to recognize that he shouldn’t be in charge of anything. Not at the moment. But that didn’t mean he liked being bossed around.

There are a lot of places for shared ground, no matter how different we are.”

Pleasure—intellectual or otherwise—was all well and good, but it wasn’t enough. It couldn’t balance out the weight of his grief. For that, Alex needed something more substantial, something more tangible. In that regard, Talia’s faith was appealing, but

there too, he felt a painful lack. Tempting as it was to lay his problems on an uncaring (or even caring) god, doing so merely transposed the question instead of truly answering it—handing off to another what he was unable to answer for himself. And that didn’t sit right with Alex.

Alex understood Pushkin’s reasons for asking the questions he did, even if Alex didn’t agree with them.

“We’re all fuckups in one way or another,” he murmured. In a way, it was a comforting thought.

Perfection was daunting, unobtainable, but knowing that he wasn’t the only one who struggled helped make the struggle seem more manageable.

All he had to worry about was taking one step at a time. The rest would take care of itself.

But that was a concern for future him. Present him only had to worry about taking the next step.

Make your choices and pay the piper. There was no other way to live. Not in the end. The universe saw to that. It always did. thud

It felt as if he were falling apart. Not from old age—that wasn’t really a problem if you got your STEM shots—but from accumulated experience.

Alex believed that it didn’t matter how youthful you were (or seemed); the years and sorrows took their toll no matter what.

“What I believe is we have one life—one life only—and she is often short, painful, and unpleasant, so we should enjoy how we can. That’s what I believe.”

There’s so much I’ve never thought of. So many years I just didn’t … think.”

There was no real protection against the dangers of life, he thought. You could try, but there were always unknown forces and events that were so unexpected—and powerful—they would overwhelm any possible defense.

(A point regarding (a): life is hard for everyone. It seems to me the height of authorial misconduct to publish anything that might make people’s lives worse. If a book can inspire someone, if it can help them when depressed or down, then it can also do the opposite. Which is why you’ll never catch me writing anything that’s ultimately nihilistic or defeatist.)

In the meantime, remember to be kind to those you love. They’re all we really have.