Efreak

“These poor souls. These poor pathetic souls.” The Emperor gestured toward the passersby.
“I don’t understand,” Tommy said.
“Their time has passed and they don’t know what to do. They were told what they wanted and they believed it. They can only keep their dream alive by being with others like themselves who will mirror their illusions.”
“They have really nice shoes,” Tommy said.

“They have to look right or their peers will turn on them like starving dogs. They are the fallen gods. The new gods are producers, creators, doers. The new gods are the chinless techno-children who would rather eat white sugar and watch science-fiction films than worry about what shoes they wear. And these poor souls desperately push papers around hoping that a mystical message will appear to save them from the new, awkward, brilliant gods and their silicon-chip reality. Some of them will survive, of course, but most will fall. Uncreative thinking is done better by machines. Poor souls, you can almost hear them sweating.”
― Christopher Moore, Bloodsucking Fiends

“ART (aka Asshole Research Transport)”
― Martha Wells, Artificial Condition

“I was only 97 percent certain this meeting was a trap.”
― Martha Wells, Artificial Condition

“ART said, What does it want?

To kill all the humans, I answered.

I could feel ART metaphorically clutch its function. If there were no humans, there would be no crew to protect and no reason to do research and fill its databases. It said, That is irrational.

I know, I said, if the humans were dead, who would make the media? It was so outrageous, it sounded like something a human would say.”
― Martha Wells, Artificial Condition