“There was a button," Holden said. "I pushed it."
"Jesus Christ. That really is how you go through life, isn't it?”
“You can tell you’ve found a really interesting question when nobody wants you to answer it.”
“This is as good as it gets. Can’t expect everyone to be on the same page. We’re still humans after all. Some percentage of us are always going to be assholes.”
“Looking back through history, there are a lot more men who thought they were Alexander the Great than men who actually were.”
“Here’s the thing,” Amos said. “If you did go in there, you might feel like you had to do something. And then I might feel like I had to do something. And then we’d all be doing things, and we’d all wind up having a worse day, just in general.”
“Murtry swung first, so technically, that was self-defense. And if I’d wanted him dead, don’t you think he’d be dead? It’s not like I quit hitting him because I was tired.”
“What did you do?” Fred asked. “There was a button,” Holden said. “I pushed it.” “Jesus Christ. That really is how you go through life, isn’t it?”
“Well, mostly I’m a mechanic. But the idea that the UN has a file on me somewhere that lists me as the Rocinante’s killer? That’s kind of awesome.”
“A bicycle?” Amos leaned on the breakfast bar. “Sure. They don’t need fuel, they don’t get sick. Most of the repairs, you can handle on your own. You’re looking for post-apocalyptic transportation, bikes are the way to go.”
“No, it wasn’t. It was the scariest fucking answer to Fermi’s paradox I can think of. Do you know why there aren’t any Indians in your Old West analogy? Because they’re already dead. The whatever-they-were that built all that got a head start and used their protomolecule gate builder to kill all the rest. And that’s not even the scary part. The really frightening part is that something else came along, shot the first guys in the back of the head, and left their corpses scattered across the galaxy. The thing we should be asking is, who fired the magic bullet?”
“We’re not making any official statements, especially when James Holden’s in the room. No offense, but your track record for blurting information at inopportune moments is the stuff of legend.”
“Alien superweapons were used,” Alex said, walking into the room, sleep-sweaty hair standing out from his skull in every direction. “The laws of physics were altered, mistakes were made.”
“Alex’s experience of real family—of blood relations—was more like having a lot of people who had all wound up on the same mailing list without knowing quite why they signed up for it.”
“The pleasantries were just ritual, but ritual was important. In Amos’ experience the more dangerous any two people were, the more carefully polite their social interactions tended to be. The loud, blustering ones were trying to get the other guy to back down. They wanted to stay out of a fight. The quiet ones were figuring out how to win it.”
“He kind of wished he had a hat.”
“Hey,” she said. “Hey.” “So I have a thing.” “Is it a thing I can fix?” Holden asked. “Point me at the thing.”
“Avasarala laughed at that. “True. But if he’s sending his hired killer to Earth, we—” “Wait, what?” “If Holden was—” “Forget Holden. You called me his hired killer. Is that how you guys think of me? The killer on Holden’s payroll?” Avasarala frowned. “You’re not?” “Well, mostly I’m a mechanic. But the idea that the UN has a file on me somewhere that lists me as the Rocinante’s killer? That’s kind of awesome.”
“That Holden is up to something? Have you met that guy? He’s never done anything secretly in his life.”
“Amazing how much we’ve managed to do, considering how we’re doing it all with jumped-up social primates and evolutionary behaviors from the Pleistocene.”
“She sat at the dining table, a steaming mug of tea in front of her, a distant look in her eyes. Holden couldn’t tell if she was melancholy or solving a complex engineering problem in her head. Those looks were confusingly similar.”
“Things changed, and they didn’t change back. But sometimes they got better.”
“Probably the most common last words that day were going to be Huh, that’s weird. That or Oh shit.”
“Realizing you’ve got shit on your fingers is the first step toward washing your hands.”
“The birds, on the other hand, were going crazy. They filled the air with chirps and trills and songs. It was probably sparrow for Holy shit, what’s going on, we’re all gonna die, but it sounded pretty.”
“He’s using you as his external, aftermarket conscience.”
“Did he kill anyone?” Erich asked. When neither guard answered, he said, “Then he’s still being polite.”
“It was strange how a person could be so vitally important in your life, and yet you had nothing to say to them when they weren’t sharing the same air.”
“For another thing, we’re under martial law, so I can do very nearly whatever the fuck I want. Including march through your precious little ship there towing you along behind in a ball gag and lacy underwear. So your warrant bullshit? You can roll that up and fuck it. Now tell me why I’m here.”
“You know just ’cause you can do something, it doesn’t mean you should. I don’t look great in frills.”
“Never heard of ’em.”
“Yeah, you have, but context is everything, ain’t it?”
“And even then, she hadn’t wanted to die. She’d just wanted it to be over. To be free of it all. For the pain and guilt to be over. And the feeling of being trapped. She might have been able to stand all the rest of it, but not the sense of being caught.”
“It was by the Green Dragon that the old gentleman travelled. He was a very nice-looking old gentleman, and he looked as if he were nice, too, which is not at all the same thing. He had a fresh-coloured, clean-shaven face and white hair, and he wore rather odd-shaped collars and a top-hat that wasn't exactly the same kind as other people's.”
“I’ve decided it’s important to love the life you get and somehow learn to let go of the life you dreamed of.”
“When Courtney appeared from the hallway, a whisper of a smile emerged on her eerily familiar face; Spencer’s legs dissolved into Jell-O. Aria let out a small squeak.”
“The music machine played away - far away - and when I started to understand the lyrics of a Cocteau Twins song, I knew I was wrecked.”
“Оо-о, това ще е нещо знаменито! Да се отприщиш и да престанеш да се правиш на такъв-онакъв; да се отпушиш напълно, да ревеш, да виеш, да надаваш тарзански викове, да прескачаш зидове или да ги пробиваш, да плюеш на всеки, да пикаеш на всеки, който посмее да се доближи! Господи, какво по-хубаво от това! И защо още не съм го направил? Страдах достатъчно и ако реша, мога да го направя. Никой не може копче да ми каже. ”
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