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Quote by Mark T. Sneed

“You are the much talked about afronaut leisure class,” said the mustached and shifty eyed third stranger with a knowing smile. “Were you injured?” “What is an afronaut?” Oggy asked his sister, in a whisper. Zuzu shushed Oggy. Beaumont gave his nephew a cold side eye.” Excerpt From Onto a Sea of Stars Mark Sneed This material may be protected by copyright.”

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Mark T. Sneed

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“Okay,” said Oggy. “What did they mean by asking you about being an afronaut?” Beaumont frowned at the statement. “We’re in space and things have not changed that drastically from two hundred years ago.” The old vet paused. “We are in space and we,” he said lifting his hand and showing it to Oggy. The boy smirked. “We, are the workers, the laborers. They,” Beaumont said, raising his chin in the direction of the three men on the opposite side of the compartment. “They, are the bosses, the managers. So, in this power structure they found a way to label us.” “We are afronauts,” Zuzu said with a disgusted look and a finger pointing to her hair. “They are astronauts.” “That don’t sound right,” said Oggy. “Right or wrong, it is what it is,” Beaumont said.” Excerpt From Onto a Sea of Stars Mark Sneed This material may be protected by copyright.”

“Still, the age of [working the system, climbing the ladder, choosing lesser evils] was long past. Systems were broken, and ladders had turned to slides long before either of us. Lesser evils had leveled out into equal ones, burgeoning ones, inevitable ones. A place like the valley wasn't birthed from one legislative oversight, but from a spectacular compounding of societal failures, and, in the face of that, one spot of incidental kindness was only a bandage waiting to be bled through.”

“The man was handsome, and he taught English in the same department as me--- and the second he showed up at my apartment and saw my bookshelf, he laughed. "You turn them around when guests come over, right?" he asked, motioning to the sanguine embraces and lusty women across the covers. He plucked one off the shelf--- a vintage-looking bodice ripper with Jason Baca on the cover, inches away from dragging his tongue across the woman's neck. "This Fabio's not exactly a Chuck Palahniuk." "That's not Fabio." "My mistake, they all look the same." I sighed. "Well, that's a pity." "Why?" "Because you have to leave. The door's there, if you've forgotten." He chuckled nervously. "I didn't... You're kidding." "No. I didn't judge you when you said you collected swords. You don't put them away when company comes over, do you? Besides, romance outsells every other genre--- by a lot, and it's still growing even when sales in every other genre are declining. In the US alone, romance sells about nineteen billion units a year." I plucked the paperback from his hand. "You can take that to your next fight club. Now there's the door.”

“Evan saw a man across the kitchen, butt leaning against the counter, muscular arms folded over his broad chest. His blond hair was cut very short, and his eyes were bright blue sparks. Evan’s gaze locked with Paul’s, and a sudden sense of vertigo swam through his head. The conversation in the other room, the back and forth between John and Alden, the startling brilliance of Bill’s teeth -- all of that faded away as Paul stared back at him. Evan found himself inside a strange bubble that blocked all outside stimuli. He had never experienced a connection this intense before, especially with an initial look, and even though it terrified him in a thrillingly sexual way, he didn’t dare pull his gaze away from Paul’s for fear of breaking the timeless moment between them.”