Normal is a funny word that is meant to sound kindly, or even complimentary. But underneath, everyone knows it is only a reminder that you are different.
The man who called me wailed into the phone. “This murder is killing the resort’s reputation, it’s just killing us.”
“It was your decision to bring along your newest, first-draft, prototype robot for a test drive here, and obviously a mistake.” “Tauri 1951” is no robot.”
The lights dim to near darkness and everyone applauds. The sense of anticipation is palpable.
“In a meaningless world, the fundamental question is suicide. Is life worth living?”
I throw my textbook against the wall. The practical exam in radiakinesis is in less than two weeks, and if I don’t pass it, I’ll never get into pyrokinesis.