CHAPTER 20
The automated kitchen produced another stale sandwich, the machine
of radio that shoots a signal through rocks?
had been settled before they started dumping societal debris on it?
Yarf! our dogbot said, yarfing through a muzzle covered with dirt.
silencing the music with a swipe of his hand. Dropping into his chair
halfwit.
drifted down to the ground, silently on null-gray drive. The door
snoring forms. I shook my hands over my head.
the old ideas, the familiar ways-therefore I have been forced to
Yes, well, that is a pretty general philosophical statement. But I