Terran Quotes

Celaena Sardothien wasn’t in league with Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. Celaena Sardothien was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, heir to the throne and rightful Queen of Terranes. Celaena was Aelin Galathynius, the greatest living threat to Adarlan, the one person who could raise an army capable of standing against the king. Now, she was also the one person who knew the secret source of the king’s power—and who sought a way to destroy it. And he had just sent her into the arms of her strongest potential allies: to the homeland of her mother, the kingdom of her cousin, and the domain of her aunt, Queen Maeve of the Fae. Celaena was the lost Queen of Terrasen. Chaol sank to his knees.

The Gethenians do not see one another as men or women. This is almost impossible for our imaginations to accept. After all, what is the first question we ask about a newborn baby? ....there is no division of humanity into strong and weak halves, protected/ protective. One is respected and judged only as a human being. You cannot cast a Gethnian in the role of Man or Woman, while adopting towards 'him' a corresponding role dependant on your expetations of the interactions between persons of the same or oppositve sex. It is an appalling experience for a Terran

Our pride is not in fighting but in farming; In the work of our, hands not our blades. Never have we sought war. We come to the Banner of the white pig because it is the banner of our friend, Terran Wanderer.

Anyways. I heard you made it onto one of the shuttles. So you're Schrödinger's Kady right now. That was this weird old Terran experiment where you put a cat in a box, and since you couldn't actually know if the cat was dead or alive from that point on, the cat was considered simultaneously both alive and dead... and presumably pissed off about being in a box.

Geologists on the whole are inconsistent drivers. When a roadcut presents itself, they tend to lurch and weave. To them, the roadcut is a portal, a fragment of a regional story, a proscenium arch that leads their imaginations into the earth and through the surrounding terrane.

Human bipolarity was both the binding force and the driving energy for all human behavior, from sonnets to nuclear equations. If any being thinks that human psychologists exaggerate on this point, let it search Terran patent offices, libraries, and art galleries for creations of eunuchs.

Athshe, which meant the Forest, and the World. So Earth, Terra, meant both the soil and the planet, two meanings and one. But to the Athsheans soil, ground, earth was not that to which the dead return and by which the living live: the substance of their world was not earth, but forest. Terran man was clay, red dust. Athshean man was branch and root. They did not carve figures of themselves in stone, only in wood.

Ai taught me a Terran game played on squares with little stones, called go, an excellent difficult game.

That, plus the huge traffic jams I could see on the public skyways even at this distance, told me this was no place for sensible people. Hell, it was probably no place for Terrans.

The war might be over, but scaring Terrans witless is one of life's little joys.

Terran man was clay, red dust. Athshean man was branch and root. They did not carve figures of themselves in stone, only in wood.

Gvardiol: “The only thing that matters is power. And you must do all you can whether it be lying or killing to achieve it.” Pep: “You’re wrong! What truly matters is truth. In our actions and in our words. I’ve always known it deep down. That’s why, I seek out the Terrans and their faith. My faith.

But the physical danger was judged to be less important than the psychological stresses. Eight humans, crowded together like monkeys for almost three Terran years, had better get along much better than humans usually did.

We're outnumbered a hundred to one. The GIA has Auri in custody. They have our Longbow locked down. But I've studied Terran space vessels since I was six--I know the layout of a destroyer backward. And though this pack of losers and discipline cases and sociopaths might've been the last picks on anyone's mind during the Draft, turns out none of them are bad at their jobs. If I can hold this together, get us working as a team, we might even make it out of this alive...

A great majority of Terrans were idealists, and they believed fervently in concepts such as truth, justice, mercy, and the like. And not only did they believe, they also let those noble concepts guide their actions—except when it would be inconvenient or unprofitable. When that happened, they acted expediently, but continued to talk moralistically. This meant that they were “hypocrites” —a term which every race has its counterpart of.

Holding Cubbie firmly against his chest, Dargus went to stand by the head of the examination bed. Both he and the rabbisaurus peered down at the unconscious female. Her lids snapped open. Two deep brown eyes stared up at him. Cubbie chirruped excitedly. Dargus’ lips stretched into a tentative smile. The Terran screamed.

Looks like you’ve got a case of misogynitis. The only cure I can offer you is to surgically remove that thumb up your ass and for you to start treating her like a person. Got it?

It’s just ugly, like someone really angry built it. I don’t know what it is with Terrans and their design aesthetic.

Most Terran primates did not understand the multiplex nature of causality. They tended to think everything had a single cause. This simple philosophic error was so widespread on that planet that the primates were all in the habit of giving themselves, and other primates, more credit than was deserved when things went well. This made them all inordinately conceited.

The culture known as “America” had a split personality throughout its history. Its laws were puritanical; its covert behavior tended to be Rabelaisian; its major religions were Apollonian; its revivals were almost Dionysian. In the twentieth century (Terran Christian Era) nowhere on Earth was sex so vigorously suppressed—and nowhere was there such deep interest in it.

Someone comes.” Tyler looks up from the server, elbow-deep in cable. “You sure?” I peer back down the corridor at the approaching Terran. He carries an armload of computer equipment and wears a tool belt full of e-tech. He is three days unshaven, glares at the security personnel around him with an air of undisguised contempt, and looks as though he has not slept in seven years. “He certainly has the appearance of a man who works with computers, yes.

Jethri had lately formed the theory that this reluctance to offer information was not what a Terran would call spitefulness, but courtesy. It would be—an insult, if his reading of the tapes was right, to assume that another person was ignorant of any particular something.

From this day forward, let no human make war upon any other human. Let no Terran agency conspire against this new beginning. And let no man consort with alien powers. And to all the enemies of humanity, seek not to bar our way, for we shall win through, no matter the cost!

If this place were closer to Terra there’d be empty beer cans and plastic plates strewn around. The trees would be gone. There’d be old jet motors in the water. The beaches would stink to high heaven. Terran Development would have a couple of million little plastic houses set up everywhere.

Touch was a main channel of communication among the forest people. Among Terrans touch is always likely to imply threat, aggression, and so for them there is often nothing between the formal handshake and the sexual caress. All that blank was filled by the Athsheans with varied customs of touch.

CENTURY, AFTER TERRANS DISCOVERED IN THE TWENTIETH THAT IT KILLED YOU!” “It took them two hundred years to stop doing it?” I ask, bewildered. “ISN’T THAT INSANE?” Magellan says. “HONESTLY, DOESN’T THAT SOUND LIKE A SPECIES THAT WOULD BENEFIT FROM SOME KIND OF BENEVOLENT MACHINE OVERLORD?” “Silent mode,” Tyler says.

To be pushed and move beyond our own understanding provides a wonderful learning opportunity.

Gethenians could make their vehicles go faster, but they do not. If asked why not, they answer “Why?” Like asking Terrans why all our vehicles must go so fast; we answer “Why not?” No disputing tastes. Terrans tend to feel they’ve got to get ahead, make progress. The people of Winter, who always live in the Year One, feel that progress is less important than presence.

Madam, let's not be so crass. We're Terrans, after all, forever virtuous, eternally right in all matters of comportment, wise and clever, honest and forthright, inclined to modest errors in judgement while maintaining our heartfelt desire to do good and therefore entirely capable of sweeping under the carpet all the genocidal horrors studding our history in the galaxy.

John Isidore said, “I found a spider.” The three androids glanced up, momentarily moving their attention from the TV screen to him. “Let’s see it,” Pris said. She held out her hand. Roy Baty said, “Don’t talk while Buster is on.” “I’ve never seen a spider,” Pris said. She cupped the medicine bottle in her palms, surveying the creature within. “All those legs. Why’s it need so many legs, J. R.?” “That’s the way spiders are,” Isidore said, his heart pounding; he had difficulty breathing. “Eight legs.” Rising to her feet, Pris said, “You know what I think, J. R.? I think it doesn’t need all those legs.” “Eight?” Irmgard Baty said. “Why couldn’t it get by on four? Cut four off and see.” Impulsively opening her purse, she produced a pair of clean, sharp cuticle scissors, which she passed to Pris. A weird terror struck at J. R. Isidore. Carrying the medicine bottle into the kitchen, Pris seated herself at J. R. Isidore’s breakfast table. She removed the lid from the bottle and dumped the spider out. “It probably won’t be able to run as fast,” she said, “but there’s nothing for it to catch around here anyhow. It’ll die anyway.” She reached for the scissors. “Please,” Isidore said. Pris glanced up inquiringly. “Is it worth something?” “Don’t mutilate it,” he said wheezingly. Imploringly. With the scissors, Pris snipped off one of the spider’s legs. In the living room Buster Friendly on the TV screen said, “Take a look at this enlargement of a section of background. This is the sky you usually see. Wait, I’ll have Earl Parameter, head of my research staff, explain their virtually world-shaking discovery to you.” Pris clipped off another leg, restraining the spider with the edge of her hand. She was smiling. “Blowups of the video pictures,” a new voice from the TV said, “when subjected to rigorous laboratory scrutiny, reveal that the gray backdrop of sky and daytime moon against which Mercer moves is not only not Terran—it is artificial.” “You’re missing it!” Irmgard called anxiously to Pris; she rushed to the kitchen door, saw what Pris had begun doing. “Oh, do that afterward,” she said coaxingly. “This is so important, what they’re saying; it proves that everything we believed—” “Be quiet,” Roy Baty said. “—is true,” Irmgard finished. The TV set continued, “The ‘moon’ is painted; in the enlargements, one of which you see now on your screen, brush strokes show. And there is even some evidence that the scraggly weeds and dismal, sterile soil—perhaps even the stones hurled at Mercer by unseen alleged parties—are equally faked. It is quite possible in fact that the ‘stones’ are made of soft plastic, causing no authentic wounds.” “In other words,” Buster Friendly broke in, “Wilbur Mercer is not suffering at all.” The research chief said, “We at last managed, Mr. Friendly, to track down a former Hollywood special-effects man, a Mr. Wade Cortot, who flatly states, from his years of experience, that the figure of ‘Mercer’ could well be merely some bit player marching across a sound stage. Cortot has gone so far as to declare that he recognizes the stage as one used by a now out-of-business minor moviemaker with whom Cortot had various dealings several decades ago.” “So according to Cortot,” Buster Friendly said, “there can be virtually no doubt.” Pris had now cut three legs from the spider, which crept about miserably on the kitchen table, seeking a way out, a path to freedom. It found none.

My world, my Earth, is a ruin. A planet spoiled by the human species. We multiplied and gobbled and fought until there was nothing left, and then we died. We controlled neither appetite nor violence; we did not adapt. We destroyed ourselves. But we destroyed the world first. There are no forests left on my Earth. The air is grey, the sky is grey, it is always hot. It is habitable, it is still habitable—but not as this world is. This is a living world, a harmony. Mine is a discord. You Odonians chose a desert; we Terrans made a desert…. We survive there, as you do. People are tough! There are nearly a half billion of us now. Once there were nine billion. You can see the old cities still everywhere. The bones and bricks go to dust, but the little pieces of plastic never do—they never adapt either.

The question has been raised, General Ia, as to whether or not you already know the outcome of this tribunal. Do you?” he asked her. “Is that why you’re trying to avoid being here? To avoid being bored?” “Sirs, I deal in percentages. There are eight possible outcomes to this tribunal which are greater than one percent in their probability, and fifty-two possible outcomes that are less than one percent, most being less than one-tenth of one percent. However small those minor possibilities are, I cannot rule them out as an outcome. I was shot in the shoulder with a handheld laser cannon on a less than three percent probability, which most people would consider to be a highly unlikely outcome. I was also elevated to the rank of a four-star General, never mind that I am now a five-star, on a less than one-hundred-thousandth of a percent, when the largest percentile, forty-seven percent, was that I should have been elevated only to the rank of Rear Admiral. “As for being bored . . . I actually would prefer to be here because that means nobody would be attacking our colonies. But they are, and that means my preferences must take second place to my sense of duty. I will admit I have sat through this tribunal around eight or nine times in the timestreams, examining those eight largest percentiles,” Ia added candidly. “This has left me very familiar with the majority of all evidence the prosecution will be presenting against me . . . but again, the outcome is never one hundred percent certain, until it has actually come to pass. I do take this tribunal seriously, but I also take the ongoing threat to Terran civilians equally seriously, sirs.

In a widely viewed documentary titled Singularity or Bust, Hugo de Garis, a renowned researcher in the field of AI and author of The Artilect War, speaks of this phenomenon. He says: In a sense, we are the problem. We’re creating artificial brains that will get smarter and smarter every year. And you can imagine, say twenty years from now, as that gap closes, millions will be asking questions like ‘Is that a good thing? Is that dangerous?’ I imagine a great debate starting to rage and, though you can’t be certain talking about the future, the scenario I see as the most probable is the worst. This time, we’re not talking about the survival of a country. This time, it’s the survival of us as a species. I see humanity splitting into two major philosophical groups, ideological groups. One group I call the cosmists, who will want to build these godlike, massively intelligent machines that will be immortal. For this group, this will be almost like a religion and that’s potentially very frightening. Now, the other group’s main motive will be fear. I call them the terrans. If you look at the Terminator movies, the essence of that movie is machines versus humans. This sounds like science fiction today but, at least for most of the techies, this idea is getting taken more and more seriously, because we’re getting closer and closer. If there’s a major war, with this kind of weaponry, it’ll be in the billions killed and that’s incredibly depressing. I’m glad I’m alive now. I’ll probably die peacefully in my bed. But I calculate that my grandkids will be caught up in this and I won’t. Thank God, I won’t see it. Each person is going to have to choose. It’s a binary decision, you build them or you don’t build them.

Back in NCO school, I had to read a ton of papers by mostly clueless theoreticians, prattling on about the “changing nature of modern warfare,” and the need for the modern, post–Terran Commonwealth Defense Corps to be tooled and trained for “low-intensity colonial actions.” In truth, warfare has changed very little since our great-great-grandfathers killed each other at places like Gettysburg, the Somme, Normandy, or Baghdad. It’s still mostly about scared men with rifles charging into places defended by other scared men with rifles.

He looked at the cameraman. “Was the photographer your idea? Not getting enough TV time?” “No,” replied Calvin. “I’ve had all of the publicity I need for this lifetime and several more. His name is Bob Jones; he goes by the nickname ‘Danger.’ I didn’t know we were getting him until we were on Domus. There was a combat cameraman doing a show on the new members of the Terran Republic, and the Domans hired him to do a ‘real Terran news show’ on the war.

My Green locksmith, Cyra, another Terran, is on a knee working the interior of the biometric lock. Her gear is set out on the floor near the door, where she’ll run support. Bit twitchy, that one. She doesn’t usually like coming to the dancefloor. I’ve hired Cyra sporadically over the past few years, but we’re not close. She’s like most Limies—petulant and selfish, with a processor in place of a heart. Especially nasty to Volga. Doesn’t bother me. I came to the conclusion at the age of nine that most people are liars, bastards, or just plain stupid. She’s a good hacker, and that’s all I care about.

There is no R&R facility on Mauna

The beaches are fantastic.

But I recently heard someone say that freedom is the only state of existence that should ever be considered acceptable to a sentient being, and preserving it is the single most important responsibility of a government to its people. Once that government places vague notions of public safety and security above the preservation of freedom, a general loss of liberty is sure to follow.

Terran

repair aboard flag.

A myth can be picked up by a whole society, believed and taught to the next generation. Gods, fairies, witches—believing a thing doesn’t make it true. For centuries, Terrans believed the Earth was flat.

Impans

Let every government see to it that each child is implanted with the tools it needs to communicate, calculate, and process data. Let each government make sure that rich and poor alike, dirtborn and outworlder, Terran and Variant, all have equal access to the outernet and its resources. Let them do that, and we will see something the galaxy has never seen before: a time of true equality, unequaled prosperity, and the kind of conceptual innovation that can only take place when every human being is functioning at peak capacity, 100% of the time. New Horizons: Social implications of Cerebral Technology. (Historical Archives, Hellsgate Station)

Even given my limited knowledge of the vast span of Terran history, terrible crimes seemed terribly commonplace and didn’t usually lead to enlightenment.

First and Fourth Fleets were operated by the North American Commonwealth, Second and Fifth by the European Union, and Third and Sixth by the Sino-Russian Federation.

He had never considered himself to be anything remotely resembling a leader, despite the fact that his parents had both been excellent ones, but he had inherited his mother’s lack of patience for stupidity.

Fucking spacers changed the name of a door just so they could feel important.

but the kid’s informal nature ground on Carl’s old-school nerves like a belt sander.

What’s up, Cheng?” he asked, using the ancient naval slang for “chief engineer.” “Why the hell are you suddenly flogging my ship like a rented mule, sir?

The petite, five-foot-two engineer was a foul-mouthed hellion masquerading as a blonde bombshell.

He grunted and flexed his core muscles as hard as he could, working in unison with his APEX as it squeezed his extremities in an effort to keep blood in his head, where it would be useful.

Well…” Ben said slowly, turning to face them. “That was weird.

Lauren let out a derisive snort. “Honey, you were a half step away from the rending of garments and sacrificing a chipmunk to the technology gods.

He grabbed a mug from the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee. God this really does smell amazing. Maybe the old fart is right.

The advanced personal exoskeletal suit, or APEX suit, was a modular, adaptable exoskeletal suit that could be equipped for any number of jobs or missions in just about any environment.

the giant flashing neon sign that screamed something was up and instead focused solely on the very, very shiny object of its desire that was being assembled in the middle of the room.

A small part of his mind pointed out that screaming obscenities at office furniture might not be the best way to reassure his dad and the room full of scientists on the other side of the door that he was a good candidate to receive a multimillion-dollar birthday present, but he was beyond caring at that point.

SHIT, MEET FAN

got our hands full up here, but they must not have been expecting us to be able to counter so quickly. The situation is tenuous, but we have force parity and are giving as good as we get. Garland out.

Ai taught me a Terran game played on squares with little stones, called go, an excellent difficult game. As he remarked, there are plenty of stones here to play go with.

What if this whole thing was actually Pandora’s box and he was blindly assaulting it with a crowbar?

Shelly peeled the foil top off a creamer packet and dumped its horrid contents into her cup. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She tossed the empty packet into a nearby garbage can, then opened and dumped a second creamer into her “coffee.” Then a third. Henry shuddered in horror, hugging his steaming beverage to his chest like he was protecting it. “Don’t worry, precious,” he said to his cup. “I won’t let the bad lady hurt you.

After reading through the standard-issue lawyerspeak warning about jail time, pain of death, yada yada yada,

No. I lured you here so I could kill you, obviously. Getting to thank you is just a perk.” “Um, so don’t take this the wrong way, but if your purpose was to kill me, you don’t seem to be doing a great job of it.

Should I have them quickly pack their seabags and prepare to embark as well?” he said, using the anachronistic term for the tube-like duffle bags issued to surface sailors, spacers, and marines for centuries.

We like to be able to have options for taking your temperature. Hence, the gown,” Dr. Maynard said with a straight face as she reached for a polymer privacy sheet on one wall.

I forcefully deny any and all allegations of misconduct.

How can he be so calm? He was definitely dropped as a child…

This was his first time aboard a military vessel, and he hadn’t anticipated how crowded it would feel—the designers certainly hadn’t paid much attention to aesthetics or feng shui.

On paper, the war had technically been a draw, but only because neither side had enough ships left over to fight off a garbage scow when it was all said and done.

It was going to be a long year or two before this shit finally settled down. He needed to get the kid whipped into shape, pronto.

first rule of tropical weather—don’t fight against it; go with it.

Just having a little fun," Crusher said, putting his knives away. "Fun?" Burke asked. "You stabbed this man in the ass!" "His buddy did that." Crusher pointed at Murph. "No idea why. Seemed weird to me, too." "Not to be a whiner about this, but I'm pretty sure I need medical attention," MG said.

Touch was a main channel of communication among the forest people. Among Terrans touch is always likely to imply threat, aggression, and so for them there is often nothing between the formal handshake and the sexual caress. All that blank was filled by the Athsheans with varied customs of touch. Caress as signal and reassurance was as essential to them as it is to mother and child or to lover and lover; but its significance was social, not only maternal and sexual. It was part of their language, it was therefore patterned, codified, yet infinitely modifiable. “They’re always pawing each other,” some of the colonists sneered, unable to see in these touch-exchanges anything but their own eroticism which, forced to concentrate itself exclusively on sex and then repressed and frustrated, invades and poisons every sensual pleasure, every humane response: the victory of a blinded, furtive Cupid over the great brooding mother of all the seas and stars, all the leaves of trees, all the gestures of men...

Logistics wins wars,

There are basically three alien networks at work on earth: The Anti-Grey Nordic [Federation] factions, the Anti-Nordic Grey [Empire] factions and the Nordic-Grey collaborators, which would also include those Terran intelligence agencies and occult lodges who are involved in the collaboration for whatever motive.

Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712–1778 CE), whose ideas about equality would later contribute to the freeing of slaves, did not lend any help to the plight of women: “Women’s entire education should be planned in relation to men. To please men, to be useful to them, to win their love and respect … These are women’s duties in all ages and these are what they should be taught from childhood on.

Don’t get me wrong,” Ben said, holding up a placating hand, mostly to stop himself from acting on the urge to strangle the imperious little shit, “I’m grateful for your efforts. It’s just that this is the first time I’ve ever been blown up and brought back to life, and it’s proving to be a little more challenging than I might have expected.

Weps,” Ramsey called out to his weapons officer, making brief eye contact with the man. “We believe this is the last Imperium ship in Terran or Alarian space, so do be generous. We can always bill the Alarians for our expended ordnance later.

I’m glad to see you well.” Klaythron moved to stand slightly behind Elyria and to her right. The guard’s body language practically screamed, Fuck with her again and I will end you, Terran

Tess toggled over to the all-platoon channel. “I’m heading in. Give me three seconds of cover, then check your fire. I’d prefer to end today with as many holes in my body as I started with.

Sixty Pathfinder Corps insignia lined the top of his son’s empty casket. It seemed such a small offering, but Henry knew it was the single greatest honor those marines could bestow upon their fallen brother.

It helped that both the Pathfinders and the Alarians chosen to join them were a cut above the average infantryman, having been forged into true professionals in the fires of their respective training programs.

It was everything Ben had come to hate about life attached to a military unit: hurry up and wait, coupled with a complete and utter lack of information as to why you were hurrying up just to wait.

Aye aye, ma’am.” Her tactical officer took a moment to flex his fingers and crack his knuckles. “No pressure,” he muttered under his breath.

Karman line,

So what are you saying?” Kravczyk said, unable to keep his mouth shut any longer. “We’re down to rude gestures and harsh language?

but at least we’ll get to embrace the suck together.

karambit

but I have a hard time believing they’d shave their goatees off to work for a merc outfit. Most of those guys keep them for life—it’s practically a religion. Kinda like how the console jockeys all grow scraggly-ass beards after they get their separation papers and move back into their moms’ basements.

There is a compression in technology and it is getting smaller and smaller. The speed of processors is defined by how tightly the dies can be cast together. Which is why blue-shifting is related to consciousness. But this detail is, as far as I can tell, unknown to the Terran scientific community, despite every article relating to computing summarizing this fact.

Extra Terrestrials express the sentiment as "Aveo." It's not a Terran word, per se. If anything, the meaning of Aveo is closer to an expression of gratitude for what already is.

Don’t look at me,” Valdez said, and he pointed an accusing finger at Tess. “It’s her boyfriend who’s starting these fights.

to the holy-shit-somebody-just-divided-by-zero hypervelocity setting

But Ramsey was and always would be a destroyerman at heart, and destroyer skippers weren’t exactly known for being models of sanity.

Eight months’ food and water and a single set of missile reloads didn’t sound like much to take on an interstellar empire.

-this was a living moment, a time to discover regularities within perpetual change, an instant in which to feel that long movement from their Terranic past, all of it encapsulated in her memories.

Blue-shifting corresponds with spatially compressing, and red-shifting corresponds with spatially expanding. Think about Moore's law. The speed of processors is defined by how tightly the dies can be cast together. This is why blue-shifting is related to consciousness. But this detail is, as far as I can tell, unknown to the Terran scientific community, despite every article relating to computing summarizing this fact.

Blue-shifting corresponds with spatially compressing, and red-shifting corresponds with spatially expanding. Think about Moore's law. The speed of processors is defined by how tightly the dies can be cast together. This is why blue-shifting is related to consciousness. But this detail is, as far as I can tell, unknown to the Terran scientific community, despite every article relating to computing summarizing this fact.