When the term "machine gun" enters common parlance, the word "machine" becomes much more sinister.

Plot idea: 97% of the world's scientists contrive an environmental crisis, but are exposed by a plucky band of billionaires & oil companies.

She smiled, turning toward Alek. "You don't know what a friend you have in Dylan.

Dying is one of those things that can’t be fixed. Not by talking about it, not with all the brain surge in the world.

Gravity was something you could beat; all it took was hydrogen, hot air, or even a bit of rope. But being a girl was a miserable, never-ending struggle.

Junkies might be easy to knock down, but they're never fragile. They have souls like old leather shoes studded with steel, and they're about as much good as friends.

Probably? So you're asking me to trust my life to steel wool and peanut butter?" "Poisoned peanut butter." "Cal, I don't care if it's nuclear peanut butter.