On a sunny Tuesday - for it seems so many awful things happen on a Tuesday - six astronauts and one schoolteacher attempted to pierce the sky. Instead they touched the stars.

Then Jix locked eyes with him and said very calmly, "If you hit her, I will open my mouth wide enough to swallow you whole, force you through my bowels, then out my other end." Avalon scowled at him. "You can't do that." "Try me," Jix said. Avalon backed off, then angrily stormed away, and Jix winked at Jill. "One in five.

Perhaps, thought Talon, there was a path in between. A way to shed their ignorance without losing their souls.

So much of my life had been under tight control. So much of Quinn's life had been wild insanity. What we needed now was both: a directed burst of controlled insanity.

And he thinks that if his soul had a form, this is what it would be. A baby sleeping in his arms.

Suddenly it was obvious to Connor why they don't teach it. Once education was restructured and corporatized, they didn't want kids knowing how close they came to toppling the government. They didn't want kids to know how much power they really had.

Makes sense, the earth is quick to consume the flesh of things that ain't natural.