What’s this? What are the antagonists doing here – infiltrating their own audience? Well, they’re not really. It’s somebody else’s audience at the moment, and these nightly spectacles are an appreciable part of the darkside hours of life of the rocket capital. The chances for any paradox here, really, are less than you think.

They plot, they plot, sleeping or afoot they never let up.

She thougt of sunrise over the library slope at Cornell University that nobody out on it had seen because the slope faces west.

If they can get you asking the wrong questions, they don't have to worry about answers.

Despair came over her, as it will when nobody around has any sexual relevance to you.

My mother is the war,' declares Roger Mexico, leaning over to open the door.

I mean what they and their hired psychiatrists call delusional systems. Needless to say, ‘delusions’ are always officially defined. We do not have to worry about questions of real or unreal. They only talk out of expediency. It’s the system that matters. How the data arrange themselves inside it. Some are consistent, others fall apart.