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Quote by John Gillam

“In an age where information is disseminated with unprecedented speed and reach, the study of disinformation is more crucial than ever. By dissecting the technologies employed, the motivations that fuel disinformation, and the distinct styles of deceit adopted, John Gillam aims to unravel the deliberate and ever-evolving use of falsehoods. His first book, Decoding Disinformation, is the first in a series about disinformation.”

Quote by John Gillam

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John Gillam

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“He smiles, cocks his head. 'Why would it matter if someone saw you saying hello to me?' I clench my jaw and breathe hard through my nose. His innocence feels put on, like he’s playing with me by playing dumb. Still smiling, he leans back in his chair, and him doing that—leaning back, crossing his arms, looking me up and down as though I’m entertaining, just something to look at—makes anger flare up inside me, so sudden and strong I ball my hands into fists to stop from screaming, lunging forward, grabbing the Harvard mug off his desk and hurling it at his face. I turn on my heel, stomp out of the room and down the hallway. I’m furious the whole way back to Gould, but once I’m in my room, the anger disappears and all that’s left is the dull-ache desire for meaning I’ve had for weeks now. He said he wanted to kiss me. He touched me. Every interaction between us is tinged now with something potentially ruinous, and it isn’t fair for him to pretend otherwise.”

“Why did God, the creator give fairies free will and egos like humans on earth? “God gave fairies an ego and mind of their own, so that they can create a self-sustaining world and paradise. It would have had to have been overseen by many people, and creators, if the fairies did not have free-will and egos. It is this set of traits that they use to earth’s advantage, to produce more flowers and grass and trees wherever it is needed. It is able to look after itself, on its own accord without it being dependent on its maker. Do you see?l”

“Simon looks over at me. “What?” “Nothing,” I say. “What?!” he shouts. He can’t hear a thing I’m saying over the wind and the engine and the classic rock. “I hate this fucking car!” I shout back. “The sun is burning me! I might actually catch fire, at any moment!” The wind is blowing Simon’s hair straight, and he’s squinting—from the sun and from all the smiling. “What!” he shouts at me again. “You’re so beautiful!” I shout back. He turns the radio down, so now there’s just the wind and the engine noise to shout over. “What’d you say?!” “Nothing!”