science-fiction

What__ more insane? Hearing imaginary voices? Or not hearing the real ones?

Wit had conquered science by laughing it out of court.

I love the machines and I cannot allow them and the humans of Twinmortal to suffer.-Hanshin

We all end up dying in the end. It__ just a question of how and when.

I suppose it's impossible to say that they will not invent anything else, because they might," said Zubria. "And, of course, if one thought of something that they might invent, one would have thought of it oneself, therefore one would be the inventor of what one thought of, and they would not be, which would make one an inventor, like them.

There__ a part of me that recognizes him on a cellular level, a part that seeks his comfort and solace, that feels more than comfortable in his arms. And when he stares at me with that deep penetrating gaze of his, my body reacts in all the right, and wrong, ways.

Don't Panic

In the ghetto of Genre, anything goes, man. When you live in the gutter it doesn__ matter if you__e filthy. In theory anyway.

Guns are not the problem. The species is the problem.

You can use logic to justify just about anything, that's its power and its flaw.

Shunting closer, I snuggle into his chest, soaking up his fresh woodsy scent. His arms encircle me and pull me close. __ou always smell like home,_ I whisper under my breath. Smooth, soft fingers tilt my chin upward, and I__ startled when my face meets his. Tears glisten in his eyes as he looks at me adoringly. Pressing his forehead to mine, he kisses me sweetly, his lips making brisk tantalizing sweeps across my mouth.__y heart is your home,_ he whispers, his voice breathless. __t always will be.

All worlds of fiction are alternative realities.

hand. I was charged with organizing the messages: descriptions of the creatures, descriptions of their space vessels, descriptions of their conveyances, of their weapons, of their movements. Positions of our soldiers, of our allies_ soldiers. Troop movements. New arrivals of space vessels. Reports of casualties. Dear God, the casualties. And their descriptions. Charred piles of ash; bloodless carcases; crumpled, broken bodies; crushed jelly; roasted, dead meat. All_in these hands.

Space is infinite. To the mind that means freedom, liberation.' So wrote Arisko, our greatest turkle philosopher, in his most famous work, 'Thoughts In A Bathtub'," said Dottia, dreamily, in an inspired state.

He made sure his tone remained casual. He was trying to keep his son unaware of the encroaching alien invasion for as long as he could, be it another day or another hour. Once innocence was lost it was never regained.So he took his son fishing and strolled along the river and pretended as though the galaxy wasn__ on fire.

The answer is they didn't. They aren't here, Razor. They never were it's just us. It's always been just us.

You have to think if we've been visited by extraterrestrial life, it was like a zookeeper walking into the chimp enclosure: He looks around, takes some pictures, then leaves without interacting significantly with the environment. Meanwhile the chimps have no idea what the fuck just happened.

Marla poked Duncan. He stepped forward. "Maybe I can help."Atomic Jack looked at him., his eyes glowed a sickening shade of radioactive orange. "I really don't see how." He slipped off his glove and his hand burst into small flames. The guy didn't yell though, or make out like he was in pain. He just grinned and showed a mouthful of orange teeth.