Most people will never get a chance to learn what’s in their own hearts. If we figure it out, it’s often not what we expected, or even what we would have chosen for ourselves.
Can you bury your heart? Can you hide your decency? Can you continue to pretend to be one of them? Even as, little by little, it kills the person you really are.
Sometimes we know the role we’re meant to play, sometimes we don’t. I’m not sure which is better, to be honest.
All of this reliance on computerized threat analysis bothers me. In my universe, the artificial intelligence took orders from me, not the other way around.
Words define who we are. Officer. Orphan. Widower. Shipmate. But there is no word for the unique agony of uncertainty.
When a civilization acts in opposition to its instincts, it may be under the influence of something, or someone, new.