13 May 2017

3Jane stepped from behind the bathchair. “Where? Describe the place, this construct.”

“A beach. Gray sand, like silver that needs polishing. And a concrete thing, kinda bunker. . . .” He hesitated. “It’s nothing fancy. Just old, falling apart. If you walk far enough, you come back to where you started.”

“Yes,” she said. “Morocco. When Marie-France was a girl, years before she married Ashpool, she spent a summer alone on that beach, camping in an abandoned blockhouse. She formulated the basis of her philosophy there.”
-William Gibson, Neuromancer

No comments:

Post a Comment

Word verification keep out the spambots, but comments will never be censored. Crocker's Rules. Tell me I'm an ass.

Review: The Wild Robot Protects

The Wild Robot Protects by Peter Brown My rating: 2 of 5 stars View all my reviews