[b]Blake Crouch
In the world we came from, our existence was so easy. And so full of discontent because it was so easy. How do you find meaning when you’re one of seven billion? When food, clothing, everything you need is just one Walmart away? When we numb our minds to sleep on all manner of screens and HD entertainment, the meaning of life.[/b]
Not counting the millions that barely subsist from day to day of course.
She cut into a waffle and said, Gotta be honest—I’m not over the moon about the word ‘heist.’
No? It’s one of my favorites.
I’ve always liked the sound of “caper” myself.
I check the time on my drug-dealer flip phone, the one I bought to call Daniela in another Chicago. It won’t make calls in this world—I guess minutes aren’t transferable across the multiverse.
Or they just get swallowed whole in the quantum exchanges.
The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.
Of course he’s plagiarizing John Milton here.
There are no rights anymore. No laws. Just force and fear.
How’s that for predicting the future?
It’s a troubling paradox - I have total control, but only to the extent I have control over myself.
One or twice a month if you’re lucky.