You know what they say the modern version of Pascal's Wager is? Sucking up to as many Transhumanists as possible, just in case one of them turns into God.

No one grows up. That's one of the sickest lies they ever tell you. People change. People compromise. People get stranded in situations they don't want to be in… and they make the best of it. But don't try to tell me it's some kind of… glorious preordained ascent into emotional maturity. It's not.

For there is a truth which cannot be bought or sold, imposed by force, resisted or escaped.

Would I have been happier? Maybe. But then, happiness was overrated.

I was six years old when my parents told me that there was a small, dark jewel inside my skull, learning to be me.

Screw every known human culture.

Mathematics catalogues everything that is not self-contradictory; within that vast inventory, physics is an island of structures rich enough to contain their own beholders.