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Sci Fi Quotes

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Sci Fi Quotes

“Science fiction invites the writer to grandly explore alternative worlds and pose questions about meaning and destiny. Inventing plausible new realities is what the genre is all about. One starts from a hypothesis and then builds out the logic, adding detail and incident to give substance to imaginary structures. In that respect, science fiction and theology have much in common.”

“Blacker than the night, the wedge penetrated the darkness. An F 117 raced by, the roar from its engines screaming through the interior of the chopper, and then it sliced away a piece of sky and disappeared into the void. -Narrator, Truth Insurrected: The Saint Mary Project”

“A light was flashing on the desktop display when Kira entered. Another message. With a sense of trepidation, she pulled it up. I am the spark in the center of the void. I am the wider shin scream that cleaves the night. I am your eschatological nightmare. I am the one and the word and the fullness of the light. Would you like to play a game? Y/N -Gregorovitch As a rule, ship minds tended to be eccentric, and the larger they were, the more eccentricities they displayed. Gregorovich was on the outer tail of that bell curve, though. She couldn’t tell if it was just his personality or if his behavior was the result of too much isolation. Surely, Falconi isn’t crazy enough to fly around with an unstable ship mind… Right? Either way, best to play it safe: No. -Kira An instant later, a reply popped up: ☹️ -Gregorovich”

“Un vento gelido spazza il ballatoio che corre esternamente allo spazio-porto. Ne copre l’intera circonferenza e da lì, al riparo di un’immensa bolla di vetro, si può osservare la Terra. Fa un certo effetto a stare là fuori: l’impressione è quella di camminare nell’infinito, circondati da milioni di punti luminosi conficcati su uno sfondo scuro del quale non è possibile scorgere i limiti. Come un’isola in mezzo a quel silenzioso paesaggio astrale, il pianeta di Roland spicca inconfondibile, variegato di verde e blu, avvolto in un’aura che alla vista appare impalpabile e quasi malinconica.”

“He strode out of the bathroom naked. Lisa’s eyes widened when she saw him, then swiftly shut. He grinned as pink once more filled her cheeks. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he sat on it. Her eyes flew open as her side of the mattress tilted up and rolled her toward him. Taelon rested a hand on her shoulder to steady her, then slipped beneath the covers and lay down. Silence fell. “Would you tell me about your planet?” she asked softly as she studied him in the dim light. He rolled onto his side to face her and eased forward until their heads shared the same pillow. “Of course.” He hoped one day to show it to her. If he succeeded in contacting Ari’k… Well, he wouldn’t leave Lisa here on this barbaric planet where more men and women like those at the base would hunt her. He just needed to convince her to take a leap of faith and join him when he departed. To that end, he began to describe the beauty of his world. Lasara, the moons that orbited it, his people, the other populated planets in his solar system. He kept his voice low, his words carefully modulated. And soon her long lashes lowered until they rested upon her cheeks. Her breathing changed, deepening as sleep claimed her. He gently brushed her soft hair back from her face, tucking it behind one delicate ear. Even her ears were cute. But the dark circles beneath her eyes were not. She needed this rest. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Sleep, Lisa.”

“Because there is a growing belief among the community of thinking beings that by 2050 men and women will be marrying human like robots. At that point, how Craig Raine will describe his experiences will be fascinating to know. And in my imagination I have already travelled with the Green Man into the future called 2075 and witnessed How humans will experience love in 2075. Because this science fiction novel navigates through the possibility of men and women falling in love with machines, without knowing they are robots imitating human emotions. Will you still dare to fall in love in 2075 or will you strive to tell the difference between a human lover and a robotic lover? Now it is your turn to join the Green Man on this exciting journey into 2075, where he will reveal to you what the world would look like in 2075, and take you on an excitingly epic journey with the protagonist, Saabir, who criss crosses the highways and all by ways of emotional trajectory in the midst of synthetic emotions and feelings that engulf him. To know more, travel with the Green Man via the science fiction titled, They Loved in 2075. With this anticipation I shall dream of you tonight and hope that you will be able to unlock the alien imagination within you, to realise the part of you that is from Heaven. If you have any doubts, here is the poem by ​​Craig Raine to make you a dreamer who while asleep is always awake in his/her subconscious state too. Because he/she has learned the art of having a rendezvous with the light that radiates through the universe, to eventually settle in a dreamer's eyes who dares to dream beyond the ordinary and the 3 dimensional reality. "A Martian Sends A Postcard Home” Caxtons are mechanical birds with many wings and some are treasured for their markings-- they cause the eyes to melt or the body to shriek without pain. I have never seen one fly, but sometimes they perch on the hand. Mist is when the sky is tired of flight and rests its soft machine on the ground: then the world is dim and bookish like engravings under tissue paper Rain is when the earth is television. It has the properites of making colours darker. Model T is a room with the lock inside -- a key is turned to free the world for movement, so quick there is a film to watch for anything missed. But time is tied to the wrist or kept in a box, ticking with impatience. In homes, a haunted apparatus sleeps, that snores when you pick it up. If the ghost cries, they carry it to their lips and soothe it to sleep with sounds. And yet, they wake it up deliberately, by tickling with a finger. Only the young are allowed to suffer openly. Adults go to a punishment room with water but nothing to eat. They lock the door and suffer the noises alone. No one is exempt and everyone's pain has a different smell. At night, when all the colours die, they hide in pairs and read about themselves -- in colour, with their eyelids shut. Dedicated to you, the Green Man and Saabir who hails from 2075 and dares to love a real woman in 2075 because he loves her a lot!”

“ESPE: So, in both conversations, Lama Sangyay steers you away from thinking directly about Epifanio or your relationship (or lack thereof) and right into the nature of your mind. So masterful. CLARA: Isn't he? I hate those instructions. I do not want to do those contemplations. I want Epifanio! ESPE [laughing]: Of course you do. How does it feel to want? CLARA: "Et tu, Brute?" ESPE: Oh, sí, Señora. ¡Yo también!”

“It seemed to me that I had no feeling left, either for what had happened or for what was yet to come. Mac had destroyed, with his own hands, the single thread of evidence that had brought us, through the whole of yesterday, to this morning’s dawn. The ultimate dream of every scientist, to give the first answer to the meaning of death, had belonged to us for a brief few hours. We had captured the energy, the energy had ignited the spark, and from that point on there had appeared to loom world after world of discovery.”

“Sono cattivi esploratori quelli che pensano che non ci sia terra se vedono solo mare, disse Francis Bacon con centinaia d’anni di anticipo. Francis non sapeva quanto le sue parole riflettessero l’indole delle generazioni future, e settecento anni dopo che il suo inchiostro si era mescolato alla carta, l’uomo si era dimenticato di lui. Ma le sue parole erano lì, sotto gli occhi di tutti.”

“«Per la Dea Madre. Sergente, che cos’è mai quest’abominio?» chiese un fante. Avevano abbattuto uno dei robot indigeni, una specie di ragno cibernetico. Quel coso stava procedendo diritto come un missile verso la loro base, forse si trattava di un kamizake. Dopo aver svuotato i caricatori, arrestando una volta per tutte la sua corsa, l’avevano aperto come una scatoletta di tonno.”

“Guardo Edith, ormai avanti negli anni: dopo avermi cercato con gli occhi e trovato ai margini di quel giardino solatio, intento a scrivere sul mio solito quaderno rilegato di pelle lista e scolorita, mi scruta da lontano, lasciando affiorare un sorriso che le increspa appena le labbra. È lì e aspetta, come sempre, seduta nella sua poltrona preferita sotto il portico della candida villa in cui viviamo da vent’anni, immersa nel verde e nei fiori. Vorrei dirle che il problema non è nostro, ma del mondo, che non ama le cose semplici. Il mondo è un caos d’idee complicate che si fanno la guerra fra loro, senza lasciare spazio alla ragionevolezza, e a coloro che si lanciano in fantasticherie idealistiche non offre che buche in cui seppellirle, quando giunge il momento di raccoglierne i pezzi. Adesso che anche l’ultimo grande sogno è finito, un’altra Grande Guerra è alle porte. Se sarà ancora peggiore della precedente, probabilmente sarà l’ultima. (...) Sostando in piedi all’ombra del grande albero, Edith fissa un punto lontano, all’orizzonte, appoggiandosi alla staccionata bianca, e continua a fissarlo fin quasi a farsi lacrimare gli occhi.”

“Rileggendo quelle poche frasi come sotto ipnosi, tardai ad accorgermi che la mia compagna virtuale aveva proiettato in un angolo del parabrezza la propria icona, cercando di attirare la mia attenzione in maniera il più possibile garbata e discreta. Scacciai quella pagina con la mano, archiviandola, come se non volessi mostrarle quanto la specie che l’aveva creata fosse andata vicina ad annientarsi da sola, neanche cent’anni prima.”

“Ecco: adesso la Luna mi parla. È un volto freddo e luminoso che galleggia là fuori nel buio, e queste sono le sue prime parole, un segnale limpido e sintetico di fredda, incontaminata intelligenza che giunge alla mia consolle attraverso l’etere. «Inizializzazione rete neurale…» Guardo le stelle, nel riquadro della finestra, e quell’algido sorriso di luce che rischiarerà le notti a venire. «Aggiornamento subroutine in corso…» Tutto ciò che desidero… ciò che tutti desideriamo è uno sguardo che ricambi il nostro, là fuori, e una voce che ci risponda. «Avvio del sistema» Ascolto il primo vagito della mia creatura, lassù, sola nel vuoto, e so che presto diverrà un muto dialogo fra macchine, un silenzioso scambio di dati e rilevazioni che non richiederà alcuna supervisione umana. «Verifica periferiche della bioarchitettura Tycho-1 in corso…»”

“Lo sfrigolio delle foglie di una vecchia quercia riempiva il silenzio che galleggiava intorno. L’odore dell’erba saturava le narici fin quasi a inebriare la mente. Il corpo giaceva rilassato alla frescura dell’austero tronco, immerso nell’aria serena della primavera. Karen, sdraiata accanto a lui, si avvicinò al suo orecchio, sorridendogli dolce. «Jonathan, è ora di svegliarsi» sussurrò. «Devi andare al lavoro». L’uomo si destò, aprendo gli occhi nella penombra della stanza metallica. Fece un lungo sospiro, riempiendosi i polmoni di aria stagnante prima di sedersi sul letto e togliersi le cuffie telepatiche che controllavano il sonno. Guardò la moglie distesa accanto a lui, ancora beatamente immersa nel sogno immaginario; aveva programmato la sveglia olografica con le sue fattezze per rendersi più dolce il risveglio in una realtà così diversa.”