Gritter thought it was about time the complacent louts at the top of the heap got to have a genuine red-hot poker up the ass. - Justina Robson

Delirium, dream, death—Three-D. What was the fourth?

So she might die here—well, she could have died anywhere, so who cared where? That didn’t interest her. Life and mystery, that interested her. Perhaps she would have been keener on death and its processes if she’d had a religious side, but to her the religions of the ages were all mixed up in her head, a ceaselessly overworked agglutination of thousands of years of responding to the fears she didn’t possess.

On the other hand...why was there always an “other hand”?