You could prolong the stillness... forever.

But if you do anything -- even think about the stillness -- then it jumps forwards, without you even noticing.

The huntress kills a boar, but instead of eating it, she sets fire to the massive corpse and watches the smoke ascend -- an offering to the superstructures which she can only conceive of as Gods.

Like trying to meditate -- the harder you try to grasp it, the more elusive it becomes.

Strip enough illusions away, and you will be left with nothing, not even the barest trappings of personhood.

You look into her eyes. She's not on anything chemical, nor is she sober. This is a different kind of high.

It's not about the dolphins. There's something else here.

Asset or ex-asset, under no circumstances should you expose HOLOCENE.

An insane copper stripper wants to use you as a canary in a coal mine.

Danger! Don't touch.

Your skepticism runs dry in the face of a real trepidation.

You've waded into a trap. You don't know how or what kind, but nobody gives away cash like this for nothing.

COMRADE KASS BASED HIS MODEL OF A FULLY EVOLVED HUMAN SOCIETY ON THE FUNCTIONING OF A TERMITE COLONY. MAXIMISATION OF COMMUNAL LABOUR.

ON THAT DAY IN 83, IT TRANSFORMED INTO A PROTEST AGAINST THE CORRUPTING INFLUENCE OF THE LIBERAL MENACE: A PORCELAIN PRAXIS.

Impossible. Awesome. Un-interceptable.

The smudge is not what it appears to be. Not the most obvious suspect, at least.

An exotic air about this man, difficult to place and exceptionally handsome. The suit he's wearing hasn't been changed in days.

Part of the global Periphery, and not aligned with any of the major power blocs. It's estimated that about 20% of the world's telephone scams come from a single unmarked building on the edge of Tsun's Arc capital city.

His eyes dart ever-so-slightly.

The mention of La Luz never fails to make your hairs stand attentive.

Something about his jawline makes you overly aware of your skin, your posture. Your right nipple hardens.

People have opinions, and bribable brains, and all sorts of fluids. Some even like circuses. Even decade-old silicon is an improvement.

A pair of blue boxer briefs hang from a washline in Besanoble. A plain dress shirt crumpled on a cold bedroom floor in Landau. Somewhere in Treffe, a man leans on a marble counter, breath shallow from exhaustion.

IT'S NOT LOVE, ONLY THE BOURGEOIS MATRIARCH'S MALADY: SURPLUS CAPITAL, YET A LACK OF PUMP ACTION FROM THE MASSES.

He seems slightly offended that you're not already familiar with the reputation of Tsunese men.

IT IS A PRIVILEGE TO RAISE CLASS CONSCIOUSNESS AMONG OUR LUNAR COMRADES.

Boring! Lame! Derivative!

It's because they're defenceless. They trigger the impulse to nurture.

PROPAGANDA FOR THE JUNIORS.

Sometimes they try. There was a rather notable broadcast during Nestor's second deposement where Portofiro's top radio host called for that exact thing.

Hair in a silk wrap, eyes closed, hands clasped, she mutters under her breath for a full minute. Her husband is already asleep, used to this.

Don't even think about it. Too late. The assignment calls.

She thinks she's won this conversation, and there is nothing you could say to her that would convince her otherwise.

This is full polycarbonate plastic and cancerogenic glory.

Souvenirs, yes... good point. Are you really going to return to Melita arms swinging?

There's even a little tram station!

Incredible detail -- handrails, tools leaning on the shed, a giftshop sign. But the faces carved into the rock are featureless, unidentifiable.

ALLOW IT TO CROUCH IN THERE AND HOLD ITS GROUND -- A TINY OUTPOST OF REVOLUTION IN THE MIDST OF THE ENEMY'S STRONGHOLD.

THE REVOLUTIONARY SPIRIT, A FOREVER SPHERE.

Thousands of tons of steel, hundreds of sailors inside, guns and missiles and torpedoes, and yet somehow still buoyant. A miracle, a marvel.

THIS TINY SHINY MAN POSSESSES THE COUNTENANCE OF A TRUE PEOPLE'S HERO.

You spot a shoulder strap around his left arm as he pushes back his coat. He's armed. This is one of the Lich's men.

Fast, strong -- and the movement revealed a strap under his right arm. This is one of the Lich's guards.

Sacrophobe coat -- the out of towner Kurt told you about.

Her voice closer to the door. Cheek pressed against wood as she peers through the peep hole.

Don't.

Kitchen knife, the closest potential weapon to hand. This doesn't happen often, but it's not the first time, either.

The sunlight sears his blue eyes white.

The vibrations might actually promote healing. Or it might be weird sexual-violence crossed wiring...

An Advanced Cognitive Manoeuvre no doubt far beyond him.

Checks