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Dystopian Quotes

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Dystopian Quotes

“Yesterday, I asked a robot, Gumball I think, do you know Murphy’s law of gravitation? It answered, ‘No, sir, I know only Newton’s and Einstein’s laws of gravitation; I don’t know Murphy’s law.’ I replied, ‘Eh, Gumball, the slice always falls with the buttered side to the floor. That’s Murphy’s law.’” Everyone burst into laughter.”

“So, you know that group up there in the Planetarium then?’ The pistol continued. ‘Hey they say it’s a small world.’ ‘Are they alright?’ asked Semilla darting forward. ‘Yeah, they’re all fine, apart from the President he’s rather dead actually, oh and one of the lampposts I’m afraid he copped it too.’ Baz’s beacon flickered with emotion. ‘Which one?’ he asked. ‘There was only one President as far as I know,’ said the pistol indifferently.”

“You asked if I knew John Forest,” he said heavily. “I knew the person you know as John Forest. I liked him. He was the most gifted fighter pilot I have ever seen. He gave us a miracle—and hope—in those dark days of the First Incursion when we were losing. Here’s to John Forest, or whoever he really was.” Jones raised his glass and took another sip of his whiskey.”

“James Heron dreamed he was once more in the abandoned tunnels on Mars. As he walked, the barren rocky landscape transformed into hills of tangled vegetation. Lightning played in tall cumulus clouds in a darkening sky, and the sky was definitely an Earth sky, not a Martian one. He seemed to have companions, but their clothing was strange—very old fashioned, in fact, as if they belonged in the nineteenth century. He didn’t recognise the landscape, but it seemed to be on Earth, and the group, several youths and a few older men, appeared to be suffering from the heat, plucking their shirts which displayed damp patches of perspiration. A short distance ahead of him walked a heavily built man who evidently was not enjoying the walk in the heat, his face flushed crimson and perspiring profusely. The sky darkened and large drops of rain pelted the group, and they increased their pace. His view changed slightly as someone behind him called something he could not quite hear. The lightning seemed to be getting closer, and he and a companion—a youth, he noted ran for cover. He could smell the rain on the wet earth, and the fragrance of the vegetation intensified. He could feel the tension of the group—their fear perhaps? Suddenly there was a blinding flash that seemed to engulf him—and then he jolted awake bathed in perspiration.”

“I’ll talk to him any way I want to. Sure, you could try roughing me up, but you might want to stop and think about that, because you won’t always be in that uniform, and you won’t always have your buddies around, and this island—well, it’s an island. If you don’t know it as well as we do, and you don’t know the places to avoid, such as the beaches the pleurodons like, let’s just say a man with enemies could find life a little tricky here.” He stared the man down. “Are you threatening me, Grover?” “Not a threat. Just a warning. This planet is a wild, untamed place. It can be harsh and cruel when you least expect it.”

“That's one of our speculations, by the way. That the prior version of history that this one overwrote was horrible. Complete geopolitical mayhem; half of New York City is underwater. The United States is headed toward civil war, or ruled by an artificial-intelligence construct, or some such other thing. Real end-of-days stuff. That the instances of ourselves who existed in that history figured out what we have: that the invention of the causality violation device was the cause. That in that prior version of history, Rebecca did not die in a car accident. That she went back to the past on a mission, as a volunteer, well aware of her sacrifice.”

“There's an ugly truth buried beneath the utopian economies they've crafted: that behind the surface of every American product and every European privilege is the blood of the Global South. How else could a continent with so few natural resources become so wealthy? It wasn't the gun that brought forth the Empire, but the man who dared to wield it. The bullets fueled the bloodshed, and the bloodshed fueled the profit. Such constructs the algorithm. So goes the computation. And therein lies the legacy of the American Empire: blood, bullets, and dollar bills. These are the second millennium building blocks with which third millennium technology and artificial intelligence were made. Who could blame it for carrying that legacy into the future?”

“Suddenly, it all falls into place, like a missing puzzle piece finally connecting in a way that I would've never thought possible. I nearly tip backwards in my chair, and I suddenly find myself incredibly aroused. This is the mother of all conspiracy theories, the single point from which all other mysterious ideas emerge. This is much bigger than reverse reverse twins, or wireless 5G void spores, this is everything.”

“A huge fleet comprised of thousands of large naval and other seaworthy vessels from almost every nation on earth laid in wait off the coasts of the United States of America. The ships were stationary, poised and ready, positioned miles out to sea but still within plain view of every major port city, along every coastal waterway on all three sides of the great North American land mass.”