Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
After Dachau by Daniel Quinn
After Dachau
"In a matter like this," the doctor said, "we're like people trapped in a cave. We can sit here and starve to death or we can set off to explore the only corridor that presents itself and hope for the best."
The family didn't care for the name of the organization, and it was quite their usual practice to reshape reality to suit themselves.
I almost feel that someone who lives without an obsession has a poor sort of life.
"Some of this is true of Miss Hastings -- and some of it isn't. There are some very fundamental things that exist in your heads that are missing in hers. These are things you take for granted, that you hardly think about at all, and that may actually seem to you quite inconsequential -- almost not worth bothering about.
"The mongrel races!" the girls chorused triumphantly.
"Don't you ever try answering that question?"
"No, because maybe we couldn't stand hearing the answer. We're afraid to know what's wrong with us."
We don't live in a world that is stagnant, as Mallory dubbed it. We live in a world that is stable -- wonderfully stable, blessedly stable, as it deserves to be for the race that is the pinnacle of cosmic development.
"You don't seem upset to find out that someone cares, after all."
"Certainly not. One can't learn anything from being right, you know."
"In a matter like this," the doctor said, "we're like people trapped in a cave. We can sit here and starve to death or we can set off to explore the only corridor that presents itself and hope for the best."
The family didn't care for the name of the organization, and it was quite their usual practice to reshape reality to suit themselves.
I almost feel that someone who lives without an obsession has a poor sort of life.
"Some of this is true of Miss Hastings -- and some of it isn't. There are some very fundamental things that exist in your heads that are missing in hers. These are things you take for granted, that you hardly think about at all, and that may actually seem to you quite inconsequential -- almost not worth bothering about.
"The mongrel races!" the girls chorused triumphantly.
"Don't you ever try answering that question?"
"No, because maybe we couldn't stand hearing the answer. We're afraid to know what's wrong with us."
We don't live in a world that is stagnant, as Mallory dubbed it. We live in a world that is stable -- wonderfully stable, blessedly stable, as it deserves to be for the race that is the pinnacle of cosmic development.
"You don't seem upset to find out that someone cares, after all."
"Certainly not. One can't learn anything from being right, you know."
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Monday, August 13, 2012
The Probability Broach by L. Neil Smith
Unlicensed air conditioning was a stiffer rap than hoarding silver.
No phone book. Just like back home.
I did a little people-watching. Something was missing -- the barely concealed hostility and fear that haunted my city streets. They carried their heads high, unafraid of the world around them. It sent shivers down my spine.
"Slaves make license plates, and if you don't ... purchase? ... one, you become a slave yourself? A convenient circularity for someone."
There aren't any real prisons in the Confederacy. People who hurt others are expected to pay for it, literally. The "law" only compels you to restore your victims to the state they'd be in had the crime never occurred. Insanity is no excuse. The judge is only interested in how you're planning to make up for what you did. Society never takes the rap, only individuals.
That first type, He hates weapons because he battles every minute of his life against the temptation to blow his own unhappy brains out. The second type, He hates weapons because he's simply afraid he'll get what he deserves.
Always liked politics. Just perverse, I guess.
Not letting one's real defensive capabilities be known is a principal cause of war.
No phone book. Just like back home.
I did a little people-watching. Something was missing -- the barely concealed hostility and fear that haunted my city streets. They carried their heads high, unafraid of the world around them. It sent shivers down my spine.
"Slaves make license plates, and if you don't ... purchase? ... one, you become a slave yourself? A convenient circularity for someone."
There aren't any real prisons in the Confederacy. People who hurt others are expected to pay for it, literally. The "law" only compels you to restore your victims to the state they'd be in had the crime never occurred. Insanity is no excuse. The judge is only interested in how you're planning to make up for what you did. Society never takes the rap, only individuals.
That first type, He hates weapons because he battles every minute of his life against the temptation to blow his own unhappy brains out. The second type, He hates weapons because he's simply afraid he'll get what he deserves.
Always liked politics. Just perverse, I guess.
Not letting one's real defensive capabilities be known is a principal cause of war.
| L. Neil Smith |
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