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“Violet looked up at the perfectly full moon. Just a big dead rock floating there doing nothing. But it never ceased to be beautiful somehow. Maybe that’s what makes it beautiful, she considered. It’s not trying to be something it’s not. Earth, on the other hand, was straining pretty hard, always scrambling to remake itself in the image of some sci-fi dystopia from the golden age of ersatz coffee and mutton chop sideburns. When will it be enough?”

“Laila could picture the flow of traffic all around her. From above, she watched the cars move along in streams like all those ants on her kitchen floor. What had they been looking for anyway? A crumb here, a speck of sugar there? The vast stockpiles of food in the pantry and fridge remained untouched. For that matter, what kept all these cars returning to the city day after day? A little money, a little entertainment? Surface operations like Livetrac kept the ants fighting over crumbs while the obscene fortunes of a shadowy elite were counted not in dollars but in lives.”

“He was a straw man in a suit, a walking false flag. Ninety percent of everything he said was crap, and the remaining ten percent was sprinkled in there just to rub his stink on it. The question of whether he himself actually believed the things he said was irrelevant. He was a puppet in a long line of puppets. He played his part just as his so-called opponents were playing theirs.”