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“Chet couldn’t wipe away his smile. “I have learned much since we parted ways, and one of those lessons is that a static force, even in mass, can be crushed by a dynamic one.” Wellington‘s face stiffened. “What kind of foolish talk is that?” “You will find out. On the Fourth of July, as you sit here in your governor’s mansion pandering to your public servants—using them to climb into more power, you will learn what it feels like to have everything you believe in shatter before your very eyes.” Wellington shifted irritably in his seat. “What sort of riddle is that, Chet? You and I have been in this political game our entire lives. You know how it works, and that’s not going to change. Ever. One party controls the knobs of politics with one hand, and the other party controls the knobs with the other hand. But they are all one body, members of a political ruling class. That’s what we do. This isn’t anything new.” Chet pushed his brows over his eyes in a gaze that could melt steel. “You will not be able to stop the ramifications of its impact. This thing I’m about to unleash upon you, I’m doing to you because you are an evil man. I used to be, I’ll give you that. But I changed, luckily, before death found me. And I will not let you get away with what you are doing to this country.” Wellington was aghast. “So you’re involved with terrorism now, are you? What are you going to do?” Chet shook his head. “The truth isn’t something you can hide from people. They all feel it even if they don’t understand the intentions behind the madness.” Wellington was in a near panic in anticipation over what Chet was planning. “I can have you followed, you know. Everyone you speak to will be monitored. Surely you know that? And who are you to decide what the best position for anything is? You don’t have a right to make decisions for the masses. If you were sitting in my seat, perhaps. But you’re not.” “If you hadn’t cheated, I would be in your chair.” Chet pierced Wellington with his squinted eyes. “And because of that, I have decided that you aren’t able to make decisions for the masses either, and I’ll see to it that you won’t continue to do so.” Chet pushed back his chair and stood up dramatically. “Enjoy this office because you won’t be here long.” Wellington contorted his face in panic. “What are you doing? What’s going to happen? Tell me at least that much! Was it so bad between us that we can’t reason with each other? Maybe we could make a deal. What if I make you my presidential running mate?” Chet didn’t answer. He headed for the door, unsure as to why he had said that last part. He still didn’t really know what was going to happen. But with Rick Stevens headed down in a few days with a multimillion dollar car, anything was possible. But now Wellington would know that Chet was behind the crazy driver who refused to pull over.”

“Chet Zar will be the first person to tell you that he does not know what Dy5topia is. He also does not know where it is, how it came to be, or why it exists. At first glance, this may seem like an odd introduction to a field guide, yet perhaps it is the most apropos. This is exactly where Chet and I began, and so it seems fitting that you should also begin in the same place.”

“Chetta said something about her and Jaxx helping each other,’ he said, keeping his voice level. ‘Why do you talk like that, anyway?’ Chetta asked, ignoring him. ‘What’s wrong with saying “you”?’ ‘Who is “you”?’ Jaxx laughed. ‘You, Chetta? You, women? You, nobles? You, everyone-who-isn’t-Jaxx? Other houses speak sideways, think backwards, walk at angles. Goliaths talk straight and act true. Goliaths have no time for misunderstandings.’ He grunted. ‘Goliaths have no time.’ Chetta nodded. ‘And your apparent aversion to the word “I”? There surely can’t be any confusion about that.’ Jaxx shrugged. ‘Jaxx won’t live long. Jaxx needs his name to be remembered.”

“Chewie gave a bone-scented sigh and rubbed his jowl affectionately against her leg. "I can't tell you what to do, Beka. I can just tell you that I would be very sorry if you weren't my Baba. I've kind of gotten used to having you around." Beka blinked back unexpected emotion. "Thanks, Chewie. That's really sweet." He was quiet for a moment, and then said. "You know what's really sweet? S'mores, that's what." He gazed up at her with an innocent expression. "Just sayin'.”

“Chez les insectes sociaux la stabilité des institutions ne doit à peu près rien à un héritage culturel, mais tout à la transmission génétique. Le comportement social est entièrement inné, automatique. Chez l'homme les institutions sociales, purement culturelles, ne pourront jamais atteindre à une telle stabilité; qui le souhaiterait d'ailleurs? L'invention des mythes et des religions, la construction de vastes systèmes philosophiques sont le prix que l'homme a dû payer pour survivre en tant qu'animal sociale sans se plier à un pur automatisme. Mais l'héritage purement culturel ne serait pas assez sûr, pas assez puissant à lui seul, pour étayer les structures sociales. Il fallait à cet héritage un support génétique qui en fasse une nourriture exigée par l'esprit. S'il n'en était pas ainsi, comment expliquer l'universalité, dans notre espèce, du phénomène religieux à la base de la structure sociale? Comment expliquer en outre que, dans l'immense diversité des mythes, des religions, ou des idéologies philosophiques, la même 'forme' essentielle se retrouve?”

“Chez les riches, la solitude et le suicide spirituel; chez les pauvres, l’envie et le meurtre, car on a conféré des droits, mais on n’a pas encore indiqué les moyens d’assouvir les besoins. On assure que le monde, en abrégeant les distances, en transmettant la pensée dans les airs, s’unira toujours davantage, que la fraternité régnera. Hélas! Ne croyez pas à cette union des hommes. Concevant la liberté comme l’accroissement des besoins et leur prompte satisfaction, ils altèrent leur nature, car ils font naître en eux une foule de désirs insensés, d’habitudes et d’imaginations absurdes. Ils ne vivent que pour s’envier mutuellement, pour la sensualité et l’ostentation. Donner des dîners, voyager, posséder des équipages, des grades, des valets, passe pour une nécessité à laquelle on sacrifie jusqu’à sa vie, son honneur et l’amour de l’humanité, on se tuera même, faute de pouvoir la satisfaire. Il en est de même chez ceux qui ne sont pas riches; quant aux pauvres, l’inassouvissement des besoins et l’envie sont pour le moment noyés dans l’ivresse.”

“Chi lascia al mondo o alla parte di mondo in cui vive il compito di scegliere in sua vece il progetto della propria vita non ha bisogno di altre facoltà se non l'imitazione, la facoltà delle scimmie. Chi sceglie da sé il progetto della propria vita impegna invece tutte le proprie facoltà. Deve usare l'osservazione per vedere, il ragionamento e il giudizio per prevedere, l'attività per raccogliere elementi utili alla sua decisione, il discernimento per decidere e, una volta presa una decisione ponderata, fermezza e autocontrollo per attenervisi. [...] Potrà anche capitargli di farsi condurre su una buona strada e di tenersi alla larga dalla strada cattiva pur non facendo nulla di tutto ciò: ma lui, come essere umano, che valore avrà a confronto con gli altri?”

“Chi non conosce gli scacchi è forse portato a vedere in questo gioco un'attività noiosa, adatta a eccentrici sfaccendati o a persone anziane: a gente che possegga, in ogni caso, una gran dose di pazienza e una notevole quantità di tempo da perdere. Tutto questo è vero solo in parte, poiché gli scacchi richiedono anche una non comune energia e la freschezza mentale di un fanciullo. E se a volte il giocatore viene raffigurato nelle sembianze di un vegliardo dalla fronte corrucciata, questa è solo la rappresentazione emblematica di un'attività in cui si bruciano i giorni, gli anni, l'esistenza stessa, in una sola inestinguibile fiamma. In cambio, paradossalmente, il giocatore di scacchi assapora l'arrestarsi del tempo in un'ansia di eterno presente.”

“Chi siamo davvero? E se la verità fosse altrove, diversa rispetto a quello che pensiamo? E se la parte autentica di ognuno di noi fosse nascosta proprio finché ci sforziamo di controllare tutto, perché ci sono tante cose da fare e non possiamo permetterci il lusso di essere, semplicemente essere, stanchi, depressi, svogliato, capricciosi, noiosi, persino sbagliati e dementi, ecco sì, questo: dementi?”

“Chi vuole fare il medico solitamente immagina di fare il chirurgo. E all’inizio anch’io mi lasciai sedurre dall’immagine eroica del camice bianco che salva vite dopo ore interminabili in sala operatoria. Poi, tra medicina e chirurgia scelsi la prima: è un territorio d’indagine in continua evoluzione. Mi laureai nel 1991, l’epoca della lotta senza quartiere all’HIV e all’epatite C. Forse per quello mi ritrovai sul sentiero delle malattie infettive. Visto che si tratta spesso di patologie che colpiscono un gran numero di pazienti, mi feci conquistare anche dall’ idea che il mio lavoro potesse aiutare il prossimo, i più deboli e gli emarginati: sono le classi meno agiate la prima linea del fronte.”