A physicist that I know commented that many other scientific disciplines, such as geology, anthropology, astronomy, are also challenged by biblical fundamentalism, but their people seem to be able to get on with their work without worrying unduly. Only Darwinians seem thrown into a frenzy that sends them running to litigation and demanding censorship. His explanation was that it's a rival religion.
British writer (1941–2010)
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Linc didn't know if it was his imagination, but the streets seemed to have gotten older and dirtier - more so, surely, then was possible in the time that had gone by. What he remembered as the center of where the action was, and where all of life happened had turned into tired and shabby remnants of an age that was running down.
Had the store fronts always been so grubby with their cloudy windows, half hearted displays, the paint around the doors dulled and peeling like the once-high hopes of some forgotten opening day long ago? Had trash always stunk like this, piled in alleys and strewn along the gutters?
Above it all, high-rental buildings that had once thrust proudly toward the sky crumbled silently amid the winds, the rain, and the corrosive fames eating into them. They had degenerated into cheap hotels and apartments while business fled the cities for manicured office parks by the interstates.
But the people no longer stopped to gaze at these buildings, in any case. The figures on the sidewalks hurried on, avoiding each other's eyes, enwrapped in their own isolation.
Even those who stood or walked together aimed words at each other from behind facades that had become so second nature that even they themselves now mistook them for the persons atrophying within.
A city of brooding shells, inhabited by beings who hid inside shells.
Respect was a big word in Linc's vocabulary. It meant being selective and paying attention to things that mattered and people who made differences. And respect for oneself meant being valuable enough to make sure they would notice you.
That was the key to doing better than just getting by and surviving, which was something even the rats in the sewers under the city managed.
In many ways, communications networks are like road systems: their purpose is to move traffic quickly from one place to another with minimum congestion. They therefore present similar problems to their designers. Speed is important, of course, and so is safety, which means essentially the same in communications as it does on highways: what arrives at a destination should bear as close a resemblance as possible to whatever left the departure point.
"Linc wasn't interested in hearing replays of anecdotes that had already been old long ago. "So what's new?" he asked.
Chips stared down as his hands, spreading his fingers. He was wearing a lot of rings these days, Linc noticed.
"Kyle's still around, running the collections ...." Chips paused, as if considering whether to confide something weighty. "As a matter of fact, we might be working something out - you know, sharing some of the action. He made me this proposition ...."
It was strange. Linc had practically forgotten about Kyle. He could remember nights when he had lain awake nursing the rage that had burned in him, consoling himself by rehearsing in his mind how he would get even. And not just with Kyle but also the man called Carolton, whom Breece had said Kyle worked for.
But somehow over the months that had slowly changed ... and now it just didn't matter anymore. Linc had seen things that Kyle could never know. He could no longer hate a man he didn't envy."
"I can tap George at the deli. He owes me — "
Linc waved the rest aside with a shake of his head and peeled a fifty off a roll he produced from his belt.
"Say, are you sure? . . ."
But his father was already reaching for it. "I'll have it back for you by — "
"It doesn't matter. Keep it," Linc said curtly.
And he left before the taste in his mouth could get any worse.
Bad luck could happen to anybody, and anyone might be in need of a helping hand one day. But to have no pride. That was something else..
People don't like seeing being afraid to express an opinion and seeing their neighbors dragged away to prison camps. You'd think that would be obvious enough, wouldn't you? But governments — here, anyway — have always seemed unable grasp it. That's what happens when you can't see further than short-term expediency.
The scene beyond was eerie - a tortured jungle of torn pipes and jagged twisted-metal sculptures rearing up out of nightmare chasms of shadow being cast by a few emergency lamps glowing dull red to preserve night vision. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she made out several shadowy helmeted figures crouching over weapons in the darker recesses and behind makeshift parapets of smashed machines and crumpled wreckage.
The combining of their differing perspectives into one viewpoint was a new, vividly revelational experience for both. Now she understood what Dave and Hugh had meant when they talked about seeing everything in ways they had never grasped before, which they found impossible to describe. It reminded her of Sam's repeated assertion of the connectedness of all people, all life, and ultimately all things; that the perceptions of separateness and alienation that form the roots of strife are illusions. She still didn't understand it — not in any way she could have put into words; but, to some degree at any rate, she could feel it. Sam believed that what mystics tried to describe was the freeing of consciousness — deliberately or otherwise — from the restraints that normally define identity, into the quantum-connected paths of the Multiverse.
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Governments everywhere are lying to people to make them hate others that they wouldn't have any quarrel with otherwise. You'd think they'd have learned something after two world wars, but where else can it lead than right where it's all going? Theo's right — the lunatics end up in charge of everything. Sane, normal people don't need power trips.