He had shit and sweat ground into his blisters. Every inhalation stank; his whole mouth tasted like ash and excrement. As he took Trumpet in to Billingate, Angus Thermopyle fought the fragmentation imposed on him by his welding; did what he could to stay sane. Hashi Lebwohl had made him schizophrenic, as dissociated as a multi-tasking computer. What was left of his volition handled the details of approach to Thanatos Minor. Databases fed him information indiscriminately, whether he asked for it or not: facts about Trumpet; UMCP speculations concerning the Bill and Billingate; classification on the Amnion warships; charges against the other illegals in the vicinity; descriptions of fusion generator disasters. At the same time preprogrammed exigencies monitored and sifted everything Milos said and did; recorded every byte of Milos' complex transmissions and labored to decode it. Such things were abstract. He did them without choosing them; occasionally without understanding them. Other pieces were more personal.
What do You think about A Dark And Hungry God Arises?
