Remain calm, do not panic.
Your neighborhood watch officer will be by to collect urine examples in the morning.
Anyone caught interfering with the collection of urine examples will be SHOT!
Stay in your homes, remain calm!
The number one enemy of progress is questions!
National security is more important than individual will.
All port broadcasts will proceed as normal.
No more than two people may gather anywhere without permission.
Use only the drugs described by your boss or supervisor.
Shut up, be happy!
There is nothing wrong with your television set. Do not attempt to adjust the picture. We are controlling transmission. If we wish to make it louder, we will bring up the volume. If we wish to make it softer, we will tune it to a whisper. We can reduce the focus to a soft blur, or sharpen it to crystal clarity. We will control the horizontal. We will control the vertical. For the next hour, sit quietly and we will control all that you see and hear. You are about to experience the awe and mystery which reaches from the inner mind to… The Outer Limits.
Not in play: dammit burpo, I was reading buddha dave’s submission and thought "The Outer limits intro is perfect for this; then I read your comment…
in play:
The problem with gambling, from Mike’s point of view, was that a person was voluntarily placing himself at the vagaries of chance. That just seemed monumentally stupid to him. No one except a hermit could get through life without at one point or another—usually more than once—giving up hostages to fortune. But it was one thing to have your destiny kidnapped by forces beyond your control, it was another thing entirely to go looking for the bastards so you could hand yourself over to them.
(S S Rat, Not my fault; b_d is some kinda mind-control dybbuk, or something–he made me post it! Oh, the pain, the pain. And in case you haven’t heard this, you’re welcome.)
BIP:
On, er, Beta Antares IV, they play a real game. It’s a man’s game, but, of course, probably a little beyond you. It requires intelligence.
The winner’s forced to transfer to another school where he or she is ordered not to mention the game and is instructed instead to lead a normal life. That’s all.
All normal life, Peter, consciously or otherwise, resent domination. If the domination is by an inferior, or by a supposed inferior, the resentment becomes stronger.
“Is not this simpler? Is this not your natural state? It’s the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life’s joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel.”
“Not to men like you.”
“There are no men like me.”
“There are always men like you.”
We can coexist, but only on my terms. You will say you lose your freedom, freedom is an illusion. All you lose is the emotion of pride. To be dominated by me is not as bad for human pride as to be dominated by others of your species.
See you later, Dominator.
Cool, my own Terminator!
She was locked into her mission, fused with Chief Barstow and Scotty Tremaine. Barstow was their eyes, peering ahead, finding their prey, marking it for death. And Scotty was their wings, bearing them onward like a falcon stooping upon its victims. And Honor—Honor was the very hand of death, and her hand squeezed again, her one good eye bleak as flint, as she sent a final missile scorching down into the sea of fire and smoke and secondary explosions which had once been Camp Charon’s air defenses and the shuttles lined up on the field.
I am Susan Ivanova, Commander. Daughter of Andre and Sophie Ivanov. I am the right hand of vengeance and the boot that is going to kick your sorry ass all the way back to Earth, sweetheart! I am death incarnate, and the last living thing that you will ever see. God sent me.
Maybe I won’t need K’tha-Jon in order to deal with Gillian Baskin, he thought. After all, what can one human female do?
Got a bit of a problem, Commander? Well, now you’ve got one more. ‘Cause the only way you’re going to get my weapon is if I’m dead.
“You can come back with your friends and do whatever you want,” she said in that same soft voice. “I know that. But you’d better bring all of them, Peep, and after it’s over, there’s no way—no way in this universe—you’ll deliver me to Ransom alive.”
He wasn’t afraid of dying, only of having not done all he could, and not properly spitting in the eye of death when it came for him. That final gesture was important.
He says he can’t bear the thought of leaving Florina to die alone.
“You stay here,” Andreas Venizelos told her flatly. She opened her mouth, and he shook his head. “You’re a commodore. More to the point, you’re that man’s Steadholder, and he didn’t come all this way to get you just to have you killed now.”
You know, I’m 1500 years old. I’ve killed twice as many enemies as that. And every one of them would have rather killed me than not succeeded. I’m only alive because fate wants me alive.
I am getting old, she realized. *And the daughter I had hoped would soon be strong enough to pull me down is now dead. Who now will do me the honors, before I grow erratic and become a hazard to the clan? *