You just expect us to trust him.
I did warn you not to trust me.
Centauri: “A game?! Oh! You may have thought it was a game! But it was also a test! A-ha! A test! Sent out across the universe to find those with the gift to be Starfighters. And here you are, my boy. Here you are!”
Alex: “Right! Here I am! About to be killed!”
Centauri: “Killed? You don’t actually think it’s dangerous, do you?”
Alex nods
Centauri: “Don’t be silly. Trust me.”
Londo Mollari: “Ah, arrogance and stupidity all in the same package. How efficient of you!”
That arrogant little bitch! Who the hell does she think she is, talking to me—talking to the Solarian League—that way?
“Hazel!” snapped her son. “Quit encouraging the boys. And quit showing off. You’re not the only engineer in the family.”
“I’m the only good one,” she answered smugly.
Acknowledging this, the doctor continues: “You have specified hazel eyes, dark hair and fair skin. I have taken the liberty of eradicating any potentially prejudicial conditions: premature baldness, myopia, alcoholism and addictive susceptibility, propensity for violence and obesity—”
I suppose I am a real professor, aren’t I? Next thing you know, I’ll be going bald.
Why, Professor Pepperwinkle! How are you?
It was a difficult period. Rotational kinematics is not intuitive. I remembered how much trouble I’d had with it, more than halfway back to Newton’s day. The kids paid attention and took notes, but most of them had that “on autopilot” look.
In point of fact, she’d nearly flunked out of multi-dimensional math in her third form, and while she’d graduated in the top ten percent overall, she’d also held the embarrassing distinction of standing two-hundred-thirty-seventh (out of a class of two hundred and forty-one) in Mathematics.
I’m quite serious about your educations. You can do what you like with your lives–turn pirate or get elected to the Grand Council. But I won’t let you grow up ignorant.
It’s five dehydrated pirates…rehydrated!
Let that be an object lesson in the dangers of tampering with the laws of Mother Nature.
Oooh, a lesson in not changing history from “Mr. I’m-my-own-grandpa”.
“Our kids keep getting smarter. If we have another kid, he could invent a time machine to go back in time and prevent us from having kids.”
To be fair it wouldn’t be her birthday—her sixty-fourth birthday, to be precise—for another two days. Given the amount of time she had spent trundling around the universe at relativistic velocities, her subjective age was a good three years less than that, but no one worried about that when it came time to keeping track of birthdays.
His followers called him Mahasamatman and said he was a god. He preferred to drop the Maha- and the -atman, however, and called himself Sam. He never claimed to be a god. But then, he never claimed not to be a god. Circumstances being what they were, neither admission could be of any benefit. Silence, though, could.
Beware of the truth, gentle Sister. Although much sought after, truth can be dangerous to the seeker. Myths and reassuring lies are much easier to find and believe. If you find a truth, even a temporary one, it can demand that you make painful changes. Conceal your truths within words. Natural ambiguity will protect you then.
Only a man whose heart is pure can wield the knife, and only a man whose ass is narrow can get down these steps. And if mine’s is such an ass, then I shall have it.