Look at the size of that thing!
Field rations are running dangerously low. Thusly, I’ve made the determination that, if need be, if faced with starvation, we will cook and eat Chaka. I’ve been thinking about this a lot, actually. If Chaka meat were the secret ingredient on Iron Chef, I’m sure Bobby Flay would probably serve it with roasted red peppers and a dash of cumin and a braised polenta. It wouldn’t be an easy thing to do, but if you slow roast the little guy, I’m sure that Chaka meat would just fall right off the bone.
Help me, you jelly-bones!
Look all they want is one little piece of information, just give them something, anything.
Remember the starfish at Montego Bay? How would I know that? I know about the underwear you wrote your name on! I won’t forget that. I know about the picture in Reno. Hey, Molly! He just told me about the sweater that you knitted that’s too big. Four sizes. Do you hear me?
It is beautiful. Not like this, but it is beautiful. There is only one language, one law, one people. There is no war, no hunger. The strong do not victimize the helpless. We are very civilized, but we have lost something, I think. You are all so much alive, all so different.
Let your mind go and your body will follow.
I would have followed you, my brother… my captain… my king.
{LOTR is SF???}
There will be grace and forgiveness enough, old dog, even for you. I pray you will spare me a drink from that cup, when it overflows for you.
(I think we’ve expanded to speculative fiction in general by now?)
Well, I’d certainly say she had marvelous judgment, Albert, if not particularly good taste.
Do you have any idea how rare it is to find a girl who’s into science fiction, who doesn’t have everything pierced?
Ekaterin’s eyes widened at this vision of a whole thundering cadre of little girls.
I can’t believe Vanessa, my bride, my one true love, the woman who taught me the beauty of monogamy, was a fembot all along. Wait a tick, that means I’m single again! Oh behave!
Listen, give them that love touch, then they’ll come on to me. They’ll be putty in my hands.
Then that’s what we have in common: a hearing problem.
In space no one can hear you scream.
It was a business about how to sort out one piece of space from another when you don’t have too much data to go on.
On this eve before she is torn from all she knows, kidnapped, hurled into deep space against her will, what thoughts fill the mind of the young space captive?
I’m not sure… I’m not sure here, where we are, is real at all. This feels like a game to me. And you, you’re beginning to feel a bit like a game character.
But I was winning.