Think of a field of daisies: they bloom, they wither, and in the spring they grow again. Who wants to see the same stupid daisy year after year, especially with a bunch of crappy iron-lung-type equipment bolted to it?

Now, being a science fiction writer, when I see a natural principle, I wonder if it could fail.

If you think of your life as a kind of computation, it's quite abundantly clear that there's not going to be a final answer and there won't be anything particularly wonderful about having the computation halt!

Our bodies are the time machine.

We're part of the unfolding world, surfing the chaotic waves

Unfortunately our nation, nay, our world, is run by evil morons.

It's soothing to realize that my mind's processes are inherently uncontrollable.