They blew up Congress! Ha ha ha ha!
The Imperial Senate will no longer be of any concern to us. I have just received word that the Emperor has dissolved the council permanently. The last remnants of the Old Republic have been swept away. The regional governors now have direct control over their territories. Fear will keep the local systems in line. Fear of this battle station.
I look around, waiting for Doyle to see me panic, but he’s gone. Of course he is!
Are you insured? I’m insured. It’s good to be insured. At least it cheers you up.
As a senior citizen, you’re probably aware of the threat robots pose. Robots are everywhere, and they eat old people’s medicine for fuel. Well, now there’s a company that offers coverage against the unfortunate event of a robot attack, with Old Glory Insurance.
“Escaped Robot Fights for His Life. Film at Eleven.”
Everybody else knows.
There’s the bullshit you know that you know; the bullshit you don’t know and know you don’t know; and the bullshit you just think you know but really don’t.
I have to tell the President.
You are not the President. No one who leads so many could possibly kneel so quickly.
And so, just over eighteen T-months from Oscar Saint-Just’s death, Eloise Pritchart, after organizing the transition government and bringing the old Constitution back from the ash heap of history, had become the first elected President of the Republic of Haven in almost two centuries, with Thomas Theisman as her Secretary of War.
There were times when she was highly tempted to shoot him for that.
John Hay, Abraham Lincoln’s secretary, added more coals to the fire and stirred it until the flames blazed high.
Well, it’s a job just like any other. Good work with lots of variety. Monday, we burn Miller; Tuesday, Tolstoy; Wednesday, Walt Whitman; Friday, Faulkner; and Saturday and Sunday, Schopenhauer and Sartre. We burn them to ashes and then burn the ashes. That’s our official motto.
When we sign up for this job, taking out the future’s garbage, we also agree to a very specific proviso. Time travel in the future is so illegal, that when our employers want to close our contracts, they’ll also want to erase any trace of their relationship with us ever existing.
Starnote: we are now orbiting Polumbus, a planet nobody has ever returned from-it could be very crowded down there.
Too much garbage in your face? There’s plenty of space out in space! BnL StarLiners leaving each day. We’ll clean up the mess while you’re away.
“Milady, according to the prisoners, the Peeps hit Zanzibar hard two T-months ago. They rolled right over it—sucked the picket into a head-on pass, blew it out with missile pods, and then went on and took out every industrial platform in the system.”
“You could stand us all on the six hundred forty square mile surface of the island of Zanzibar.”
I’d stand up on my desk and clap for you.
Roic took this, resignedly, as, If you jumped him and I cheered you on…