Zone 2 Quotes

Males--they've all trained against each other. They expect attacks to certain zones on their bodies and from someone who's used to relying on upper-body strength. And they always, always underestimate women.

Crowley, if this is what it takes to keep Simon in my arms—gunshots and Quiet Zones and high-speed chases—I’m here for it. I’ll swear to it. I’ve found my vocation.

You’re going to feel uncomfortable in your new world for a bit. It always does feel strange to be knocked out of your comfort zone . . . There is a hunger in you, Clark. A fearlessness. You just buried it, like most people do. Just live well. Just live.

How to win in life: 1 work hard 2 complain less 3 listen more 4 try, learn, grow 5 don't let people tell you it cant be done 6 make no excuses

You can’t control the bad things that happen to you. All you can do is decide how much of you you’re going to let them take.

Sometimes the hardest place to live is the one in-between.

I was tired of chasing ghosts, hollow men who were outside my comfort zone, men who had nothing to give me except a rush. It was all I asked for, and all I ever got.

My mother tells me that when I meet someone I like, I have to ask them three questions: 1. what are you afraid of? 2. do you like dogs? 3. what do you do when it rains? of those three, she says the first one is the most important. “They gotta be scared of something, baby. Everybody is. If they aren’t afraid of anything, then they don’t believe in anything, either.”I asked you what you were afraid of. “spiders, mostly. being alone. little children, like, the ones who just learned how to push a kid over on the playground. oh and space. holy shit, space.” I asked you if you liked dogs. “I have three.” I asked you what you do when it rains. “sleep, mostly. sometimes I sit at the window and watch the rain droplets race. I make a shelter out of plastic in my backyard for all the stray animals; leave them food and a place to sleep.” he smiled like he knew. like his mom told him the same thing. “how about you?” me? I’m scared of everything. of the hole in the o-zone layer, of the lady next door who never smiles at her dog, and especially of all the secrets the government must be breaking it’s back trying to keep from us. I love dogs so much, you have no idea. I sleep when it rains. I want to tell everyone I love them. I want to find every stray animal and bring them home. I want to wake up in your hair and make you shitty coffee and kiss your neck and draw silly stick figures of us. I never want to ask anyone else these questions ever again.

There is one absolute truth. The sum of my existence equals you.

Nick‘s eyes widened as a total state of befuddled huh possessed him. Was he in the Twilight Zone?

Every girl wants a bad boy who is only good to her

This was just a season, and there's beauty in all seasons. Even if you are looking forward to the next one.

Tina leans forward and asks quietly, 'Do you? You know? Love her?' Squeezing Nat’s knee again, I reply, 'She’s teachin’ me how.

Talking to you is like talking to myself. Only better." "It’s scary that I get that.

The funny thing is, Ivy, falling in love with you was as easy as breathing. The best time of my life.

I was a ghost, wandering the rooms of a museum of the person I used to be, and Jason was like one of the living who could somehow see me and decided to wander the place with me.

So what if you failed? You're never going to accomplish anything worthwhile if you keep to your comfort zone.

It’s stupid not to communicate what you know to the adults. They’re only trying to protect us. And as far as the no-secrets zone, I can’t agree to that. I don’t even really know you guys, so why would I tell you my secrets? No way.

She had platonic all but tattooed on her forehead.

This girl. She's my girl. She's not perfect. Neither am I. But she's perfect for me, and I'll do anything I can to keep her.

We aren’t into bras?”  “We? I personally don’t love wearing one with my pajamas, but you do you.” I hold my hands up in surrender. “Judgment free zone.

This is going to hurt, isn’t it?” “Yes it is.” ”Am I allowed to call you names?” It was very very hard not to laugh. Impertinent little brat.

If life has taught me anything it’s to appreciate what you’ve got. Take something for granted and it could be gone before you even realized what you had.

But my job is to help you with your crazy. Make you the best, most magnificent crazy you can be.

You are the happiness I never realized I needed.

My "happiness" wasn't always the real thing. Most of the time it was a fabricated, forced version that cracked around the edges if examined closely enough. But it was the choice that was the accomplishment.

I get a total lady boner. My lady bits are way too happy. So happy it's crying juicy tears.

Technical people don't make good slaves. Without their wholehearted cooperation, things fall apart.

That’s the thing about love,” he said, kissing my hair. “It doesn’t need to be reciprocated to be real.

I’m crazy about you, Ivy. You have to know that. I’m so lost in you, I don’t ever want to find my way back.

Seriously, Iv…You could climb him like Everest, make base camp at his cock, and tackle the rest in the morning.

Drunk me had no business putting that out there for sober me. She was such a gossip.

In the meantime, how about us doing some more sister things together?" Alys snorted. "Like what?" Oh, I don't know. Slay a few monsters, outwit a few magicians, drain a few Chaotic Zones, negotiate a few treaties..." And after lunch?" Janie returned the wry grin sweetly. "I'll let you know." The hero and the sorceress walked back up the path arm in arm.

She may have mentally relegated him to the friend zone, but the rest of her hadn’t gotten the memo

He feels a tiny spark of emotion, seeing his own photo here, right in the middle of the war and the friendship zone—if there’s any zoning at all among the chaotically placed frames, that is.

You realize that repeatedly bringing me my favorite coffee is comparable to feeding a stray cat, right? You might never get rid of me now.

You don’t want to be someone’s muse, you want to be someone’s undoing. And let me tell you, Kitten… You’re mine.

Another tip you picked up from my books?” “Those things are like a treasure map. Just follow the tabs and highlights to find the pot of gold.

GrayG: I feel like I can tell you anything. IvyMac: You can. That's what friends do. GrayG: I've never been friends with a girl before. IvyMac: I'm honored to be your first.

It’s just how I feel. I’m yours. All of me. I think I always belonged to you. Even when you belonged to someone else.

I would notice you in a crowd of a million.

Excuse me, but I’ve been to some of the toughest zones in the galaxy to get my targets. And I have never once gone after a target and failed. Ever. (Shahara) Yeah, but you’ve never been chased before. It’s a lot harder to be the prey than it is to be the predator. (Syn)

I’m not much of a chess player, but there is an aspect of the game that I find fascinating. After a while, you can almost see lines of force between the pieces. Areas of danger where it is physically impossible to move pieces into. Clouds of possibility, forbidden zones.

I’m so happy I could shit rainbows!

So High, So Low, So Many Things to Know

I am tired of shooting zombie deer that wander past our safety zone. Well, okay. I'm not really tired of that part. That part is pretty cool. Suck it, Bambi.

Max replies, "Why the fuck n- Oh man, are you gettin' lucky?" I quickly do up Asher's jeans and stand. Max bursts into laughter when he sees my head ascend and chuckles, "Shit, guys. Warn a brother. Did you at least finish?" Ash smiles big fluffling my hair, I tell Max, "I never start something I don't plan to finish." Ash wraps his arm around me and Max shakes his head. He says, "Well if you two don't mind, I think I'm gonna make this a blowjob free zone from now on.

His fingers briefly touch my cheek as he kisses me back. “The fact is, Ivy, for me, there is one absolute truth. The sum of my existence equals you.

Sometimes you have to walk away from what you want in order to find what you deserve.

You can start over again. Start now.

That fucker friend zoned me. Well tough shit. He wasn’t my friend. I wanted something altogether more intimate from Tom.

Just a thought for all you God-fearin', gun-lovin', Bible-thumpin' 2nd Amendment patriots. If it turns out Heaven's a gun-free zone, what's plan B???

With a little hum of pleasure, he strokes my leg, his expression content, his body loose-limbed and lazy. Give the man a blow job and a little unexpected ass play, and he’s practically purring.

Kiss the girl, already.” Johnson begins to sing. Badly. A cheesy tot hits his cheek, and he chucks a wing at Diaz in retaliation. It goes wide. “Isn’t that the song the little crab sings in The Lion King?” Dex asks. “It’s The Little Mermaid. And stop playing like you don’t know.

His dark eyes were on the road ahead, thoughtful. “No. I was hoping to go back to Tucson and see if I could get this hot chick I know to go out with me. I hear she’s in demand, though. She keeps putting me off each time I try to plan something romantic.” “Yeah, well, maybe if you come up with a good itinerary, you could lure her out.” “I was thinking dinner at Joe’s.” I made a face. “If that’s the case, maybe you’d better brace yourself for rejection.” “Red Pepper Bistro?” “Okay. Now you’re in the zone.” “Followed by a long massage in the sauna.” “That’s pretty good too.” “And then indecent things in the sauna.” “I hope you mean you’ll be doing the indecent things—because I more than did my share last night.” Kiyo glanced over at me with a mischievous grin. “Who says I’m talking about you?

If you want this baby, then we’ll learn as we go. If you don’t—” He kisses me again. “Then I’ll hold your hand every step of the way.

I want everything with you.

I’m not what you would call a ‘nice person’. I tolerate people on the best of days.

I need your submission too, but only if it’s real. If you’re really not feeling it, then don’t pretend. Make me earn it.

Sweet Jesus,” Dad snaps. “Don’t you dare go Jerry Maguire on me.

I wouldn’t say I’m a slut. I’m just in touch with my inner slut. And, let me tell you, she rocks.

The FBI will be all over me. And my boyfriend has the cops watching my house. The house where I have all my murder supplies that I have to use. Cops that follow me to the store when I get milk. Obviously they can’t follow me and guard my kill zone for days on end while I torture people. Stupid Boogeyman. I wish I could castrate him.

All our lives, we’re told work hard, strive for more, do all you can to live that life less ordinary. Money, power, fame, everyone wants it. But you get there and suddenly you’re supposed to be ashamed, be humble?” He shakes his head. “Fuck that noise. I say live your life on your terms. If someone judges you about material things, that’s their problem.

We’re long on high principles and short on simple human understanding.

How many moments like this had I already missed because of my own stupid hesitations and rules and reservations?

You have owned my heart since the first fake kiss, Kitten.

The more I pretended like she was mine to tease like that, the more it felt like she really was.

Maybe because I want to know how to please you. Or I’m a dirty bastard who needs to hear your honey-smooth voice talk about sex. Take your pick.

She fucking glued pancakes on my ceiling! The crazy-assed devil woman glued motherfucking pancakes on the ceiling

Straightening, he towered over her, his eyes glowing with unmistakable heat. "I would find the nearest supply closet and take you up on that ofer faster than you can say 'Let's get naked.

I love your hands'- 'have them. They're yours' - 'you're giving me your hands?'- 'my hands. My voice. My back to do your heavy lifting, my arms to carry you to bed when you've had too much tequila. My money, my time, my heart. It's all yours.

Is what I'm doing creepy? Maybe. Do I care? I'm not a known giver of fucks. No.

I couldn’t eat,” he started, knee still bouncing. “Couldn’t train, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t do anything other than make myself sick thinking about him touching you.

I am so tired of being more sentimental about everyone and everything in my life than I am about myself.

GrayG: Just to clarify, putting the perfectly reasonable and technically correct name aside, shenanigans are a go? Laughing now, I lean back more comfortably in the ugly plastic airport seat and answer. IvyMac: All night, Cupcake. I can’t wait to taste your frosting. A couple seconds pass and then, GrayG: Mac, you sent a dirty text. I just shed a tear of pride. I also have a hard-on. I think the little old lady sitting next to me is checking it out.

My mother tells me that when I meet someone I like, I have to ask them three questions: 1. what are you afraid of? 2. do you like dogs? 3. what do you do when it rains? of those three, she says the first one is the most important. “They gotta be scared of something, baby. Everybody is. If they aren’t afraid of anything, then they don’t believe in anything, either.” I asked you what you were afraid of. “spiders, mostly. being alone. little children, like, the ones who just learned how to push a kid over on the playground. oh and space. holy shit, space.” I asked you if you liked dogs. “I have three.” I asked you what you do when it rains. “sleep, mostly. sometimes I sit at the window and watch the rain droplets race. I make a shelter out of plastic in my backyard for all the stray animals; leave them food and a place to sleep.” he smiled like he knew. like his mom told him the same thing. “how about you?” me? I’m scared of everything. of the hole in the o-zone layer, of the lady next door who never smiles at her dog, and especially of all the secrets the government must be breaking it’s back trying to keep from us. I love dogs so much, you have no idea. I sleep when it rains. I want to tell everyone I love them. I want to find every stray animal and bring them home. I want to wake up in your hair and make you shitty coffee and kiss your neck and draw silly stick figures of us. I never want to ask anyone else these questions ever again.

Nat's face softens, her lips tilt at the corner and she speaks full of awe, "Wow." Still chuckling, I ask, "What?" She shifts from one foot to the other, looks to the ground and says softly, "That's the first time I've heard you laugh." She nervously plays with a ring on her finger. "That's one of the nicest sounds I've ever heard, Ghost. You should do it more often.

Is there anything else outside of my comfort zone that you’d like me to do for you tonight?” “Not tonight, but you could make me breakfast in the morning.” “You’re pushing it...” “Just in case you change your mind, I would like Belgian waffles, bacon, sliced strawberries, and orange juice.” “Unless you want to eat all of those things off of my cock, it’s not happening.

Do you know how intimidating it is to approach a girl when she’s reading a book? That’s like trying to pet a cat’s belly. It might work out great, but more than likely you’ll get claws to the face for assuming they wanted anything to do with you.

You think you know what love looks like. You think the fairy tales and the romantic movies prepare you. And then you finally, really truly find it and you realize you never knew a thing about it until her.” He shook his head. “She was every love song I’ve never been good enough to write.

Hugh was a man who could stroke magic from a guitar as fluidly as he did from her body. A man who tenderly held a child when doing so exposed old grief.

Sometimes the hardest place to live is the one in-between. And sometimes in-between is all you’ll ever get.

Oh, please, I never get sick. I’ve had my flu shot.” I roll my eyes and snort, which really isn’t advisable with a stuffed nose. “And have the immune system of a god,” he adds.

There are two occasions when complaining is least appreciated in the world: (1) Whenever you tell someone else that you are tired. (2) Whenever you tell someone else that you don’t feel well. If you are tired, you can exercise several options, but complaining to even one poor soul, let alone a loved one, is abusing that person. And it won’t make you less tired. The same kind of logic applies to your “not feeling well.

On this small world, there will be no more real darkness. But there will always be the Dark. Go out tonight, Lady Pedure. Look up. We are surrounded by the Dark and always will be. And just as our Dark ends with the passage of time in a New Sun, so the greater Dark ends at the shores of a million million stars. Think! If our sun's cycle was once less than a year, then even earlier our sun might have been middling bright all the time. I have students who are sure most of the stars are just like our sun, only much much younger, and many with worlds like ours. You want a deepness that endures, a deepness that Spiderkind can depend on? Pedure, there is a deepness in the sky, and it extends forever.

I AM A CONSISTENT WINNER BECAUSE: 1. I objectively identify my edges. 2. I predefine the risk of every trade. 3. I completely accept the risk or I am willing to let go of the trade. 4. I act on my edges without reservation or hesitation. 5. I pay myself as the market makes money available to me. 6. I continually monitor my susceptibility for making errors. 7. I understand the absolute necessity of these principles of consistent success and, therefore, I never violate them.

Certainly not! I didn't build a machine to solve ridiculous crossword puzzles! That's hack work, not Great Art! Just give it a topic, any topic, as difficult as you like..." Klapaucius thought, and thought some more. Finally he nodded and said: "Very well. Let's have a love poem, lyrical, pastoral, and expressed in the language of pure mathematics. Tensor algebra mainly, with a little topology and higher calculus, if need be. But with feeling, you understand, and in the cybernetic spirit." "Love and tensor algebra?" Have you taken leave of your senses?" Trurl began, but stopped, for his electronic bard was already declaiming: Come, let us hasten to a higher plane, Where dyads tread the fairy fields of Venn, Their indices bedecked from one to n, Commingled in an endless Markov chain! Come, every frustum longs to be a cone, And every vector dreams of matrices. Hark to the gentle gradient of the breeze: It whispers of a more ergodic zone. In Reimann, Hilbert or in Banach space Let superscripts and subscripts go their ways. Our asymptotes no longer out of phase, We shall encounter, counting, face to face. I'll grant thee random access to my heart, Thou'lt tell me all the constants of thy love; And so we two shall all love's lemmas prove, And in bound partition never part. For what did Cauchy know, or Christoffel, Or Fourier, or any Boole or Euler, Wielding their compasses, their pens and rulers, Of thy supernal sinusoidal spell? Cancel me not--for what then shall remain? Abscissas, some mantissas, modules, modes, A root or two, a torus and a node: The inverse of my verse, a null domain. Ellipse of bliss, converge, O lips divine! The product of our scalars is defined! Cyberiad draws nigh, and the skew mind Cuts capers like a happy haversine. I see the eigenvalue in thine eye, I hear the tender tensor in thy sigh. Bernoulli would have been content to die, Had he but known such a^2 cos 2 phi!

She bit her lip and looked him up and down.. Lucy eye's zoned in on Cam's junk. He covered his dick with both his hands. "I mean it, Lucy." He took a step back. She took a step forward. "Quit objectifying me!" he yelled. "I have feelings, you know!" She took a few more steps forward until she was in front of him. She placed her hand over his; still covering his parts, and raised her eyebrows. "No," he warned. She pouted. "No," he said again. She licked her lips. "Oh, fuck it!" he grunted, before lifting her over his shoulders. He bumped fists with me on the way out.

It is an edged cliché that the world is most pleasant in the years of a Waning Sun. It is true that the weather is not so driven, that everywhere there is a sense of slowing down, and most places experience a few years where the summers do not burn and the winters are not yet overly fierce. It is the classic time of romance. It's a time that seductively beckons higher creatures to relax, postpone. It's the last chance to prepare for the end of the world.

Sloan was moving slower in this relationship than I was. I didn't take it personally. I meant what I said: I'd wait for her. I'd wait as long as she needed. When she was ready, she'd let me know. And if I was doing my job as her boyfriend, making her feel safe - and making sure she wanted me enough - it would all work itself out eventually. There was no rush. This was just a season, and there's beauty in all seasons. Even if you are looking forward to the next one.

At some point, you have to accept that and move forward. I’m not saying you need to sprint, or that it’s not going to hurt every step of the way. But that’s what life is, sometimes. It’s just getting up, getting dressed, and putting one foot in front of the other until one day… the pain fades. And you know what else?” “What?” I whispered. “Life has a funny way of surprising us and bringing us something even better down the line.

A probabilistic mind-set pertaining to trading consists of five fundamental truths. 1. Anything can happen. 2. You don’t need to know what is going to happen next in order to make money. 3. There is a random distribution between wins and losses for any given set of variables that define an edge. 4. An edge is nothing more than an indication of a higher probability of one thing happening over another. 5. Every moment in the market is unique.

I press into him, deepening our kiss. His arms wrap around me, constricting me, making me feel safe and warm. I reach up and cup his cheek. He pulls back a little and says, "Say it." Confused, I pull back further and look into his hooded eyes. He repeats, "Say it, baby." It dawns on me and with a small smile, I tell him sincerely, "I love you, Asher Collins." Looking pained, he closes his eyes and rests his forehead on mine. He whispers, "Don't deserve you. Not even a bit. But as long as you want me, you got me." My eyes close and I whisper, "Don't leave me. Ever." "Never. You're my girl," he replies seriously.

Second by second, the Queng Ho counted from the instant that a human had first set foot on Old Earth's moon. But if you looked at it still more closely ... the starting instant was actually about fifteen million seconds later, the 0-second of one of Humankind's first computer operating systems.

Some people grow up gradually, the foundations of their childhood steadily sinking into the earth so slowly they barely notice the change. Until one day they’re simply standing on their own two feet with little idea how they got there. Then there are people whose childhoods are smashed to bits in one blow. They topple into adulthood, flailing about for something to hold onto, and the terror of falling leaves a permanent scar on their psyche. Do those people ever end up feeling safe?

In the hall, Tina whisper hisses, "Retreat! Retreat!" The sounds of heels clip clopping follows before... stumble crash bang Mimi laughs her ass off and says, "We have a man down! I repeat. We are a man down!" Lola laughs hard and yells out, "We're so bad at this! Best mission ever! The sound of giggles and heels approach my room. I put an arm under my head to elevate it. I want to see what these goofballs are doing. Tina's first through the door and looks sheepish while rubbing her elbow. That is until she see Nat, Helena and Nina all sitting on my bed. Then she yells out, "Pajama party!" And literally throws herself on to my bed, hurt elbow forgotten. She belly flops onto my stomach, My body jolts upwards, the wind is knocked out of me and I groan. Tina looks up at me with wide eyes. She rushed out, "Ash, honey! I'm so sorry!" Then she rubs what she thinks is my stomach. Only its my cock. Removing her hands from me, I tell her, "Tina, I don't think Nik would like you in my bed rubbing my junk.

Gray and Drew sitting side by side, with their muscled physiques taking up a good portion of the booth, look like a comic book come to life. They catch me staring and both say, “What?” at the same time. Smiling, I shake my head. “Nothing. I just had this image of Thor and Captain America having a beer.” They both color at the same time. Which is kind of cute. “Ha!” cries Anna at my side. Her cheeks plump with a wide grin. “I had that Captain America thought about Drew too.” Drew perks up. “You did, huh?” Gray snorts. “Dude, I’ve just been compared to Thor. I totally win.” “What the hell does Thor have? A little hammer?” Drew waves a hand as if to say, please. But Gray smirks. “At least he isn’t hiding behind a wussy shield. Thor is a god. Enough said.” “A boring god with the personality of a post,” Drew volleys. “And you’re saying Captain America isn’t boring? Dude. He doesn’t even understand modern culture. He’s like a 1940s Boy Scout.” Drew and Gray eyeball each other for a second. Then Drew relents with a laugh. “Touché.

I love you," he repeated, quieter this time, as if he only wanted me to hear. "I love your smutty books, and your weird documentaries, and your obsession with orange, processed snacks." I choked on something between a laugh and a sob. "I love the way you dress, and the way you light up when you talk about the universe, and the way you saw through every wall I tried to put between me and the rest of the world and knew who I was even when I didn't." He shook his head, licking his lips before he continued. "I love how you believe in me, and how you burn to prove everyone wrong when they size you up too quickly. I love that you challenge me." I leaned into his palm, bottom lip quivering before I bit down to hold it still. "I love everything about you- big and small, silly and serious. And I'm sorry I was an idiot and tried to end our story before it even had the chance to begin.

The North Korean capital, Pyongyang, is a city consecrated to the worship of a father-son dynasty. (I came to think of them, with their nuclear-family implications, as 'Fat Man and Little Boy.') And a river runs through it. And on this river, the Taedong River, is moored the only American naval vessel in captivity. It was in January 1968 that the U.S.S. Pueblo strayed into North Korean waters, and was boarded and captured. One sailor was killed; the rest were held for nearly a year before being released. I looked over the spy ship, its radio antennae and surveillance equipment still intact, and found photographs of the captain and crew with their hands on their heads in gestures of abject surrender. Copies of their groveling 'confessions,' written in tremulous script, were also on show. So was a humiliating document from the United States government, admitting wrongdoing in the penetration of North Korean waters and petitioning the 'D.P.R.K.' (Democratic People's Republic of Korea) for 'lenience.' Kim Il Sung ('Fat Man') was eventually lenient about the men, but not about the ship. Madeleine Albright didn't ask to see the vessel on her visit last October, during which she described the gruesome, depopulated vistas of Pyongyang as 'beautiful.' As I got back onto the wharf, I noticed a refreshment cart, staffed by two women under a frayed umbrella. It didn't look like much—one of its three wheels was missing and a piece of brick was propping it up—but it was the only such cart I'd see. What toothsome local snacks might the ladies be offering? The choices turned out to be slices of dry bread and cups of warm water. Nor did Madeleine Albright visit the absurdly misnamed 'Demilitarized Zone,' one of the most heavily militarized strips of land on earth. Across the waist of the Korean peninsula lies a wasteland, roughly following the 38th parallel, and packed with a titanic concentration of potential violence. It is four kilometers wide (I have now looked apprehensively at it from both sides) and very near to the capital cities of both North and South. On the day I spent on the northern side, I met a group of aging Chinese veterans, all from Szechuan, touring the old battlefields and reliving a war they helped North Korea nearly win (China sacrificed perhaps a million soldiers in that campaign, including Mao Anying, son of Mao himself). Across the frontier are 37,000 United States soldiers. Their arsenal, which has included undeclared nuclear weapons, is the reason given by Washington for its refusal to sign the land-mines treaty. In August 1976, U.S. officers entered the neutral zone to trim a tree that was obscuring the view of an observation post. A posse of North Koreans came after them, and one, seizing the ax with which the trimming was to be done, hacked two U.S. servicemen to death with it. I visited the ax also; it's proudly displayed in a glass case on the North Korean side.

Pham Nuwen spent years learning to program/explore. Programming went back to the beginning of time. It was a little like the midden out back of his father’s castle. Where the creek had worn that away, ten meters down, there were the crumpled hulks of machines—flying machines, the peasants said—from the great days of Canberra’s original colonial era. But the castle midden was clean and fresh compared to what lay within the Reprise’s local net. There were programs here that had been written five thousand years ago, before Humankind ever left Earth. The wonder of it—the horror of it, Sura said—was that unlike the useless wrecks of Canberra’s past, these programs still worked! And via a million million circuitous threads of inheritance, many of the oldest programs still ran in the bowels of the Qeng Ho system. Take the Traders’ method of timekeeping. The frame corrections were incredibly complex—and down at the very bottom of it was a little program that ran a counter. Second by second, the Qeng Ho counted from the instant that a human had first set foot on Old Earth’s moon. But if you looked at it still more closely. . .the starting instant was actually some hundred million seconds later, the 0-second of one of Humankind’s first computer operating systems. So behind all the top-level interfaces was layer under layer of support. Some of that software had been designed for wildly different situations. Every so often, the inconsistencies caused fatal accidents. Despite the romance of spaceflight, the most common accidents were simply caused by ancient, misused programs finally getting their revenge. “We should rewrite it all,” said Pham. “It’s been done,” said Sura, not looking up. She was preparing to go off-Watch, and had spent the last four days trying to root a problem out of the coldsleep automation. “It’s been tried,” corrected Bret, just back from the freezers. “But even the top levels of fleet system code are enormous. You and a thousand of your friends would have to work for a century or so to reproduce it.” Trinli grinned evilly. “And guess what—even if you did, by the time you finished, you’d have your own set of inconsistencies. And you still wouldn’t be consistent with all the applications that might be needed now and then.” Sura gave up on her debugging for the moment. “The word for all this is ‘mature programming environment.’ Basically, when hardware performance has been pushed to its final limit, and programmers have had several centuries to code, you reach a point where there is far more signicant code than can be rationalized. The best you can do is understand the overall layering, and know how to search for the oddball tool that may come in handy—take the situation I have here.” She waved at the dependency chart she had been working on. “We are low on working fluid for the coffins. Like a million other things, there was none for sale on dear old Canberra. Well, the obvious thing is to move the coffins near the aft hull, and cool by direct radiation. We don’t have the proper equipment to support this—so lately, I’ve been doing my share of archeology. It seems that five hundred years ago, a similar thing happened after an in-system war at Torma. They hacked together a temperature maintenance package that is precisely what we need.” “Almost precisely.