Nexus

Naam, Ramez

a mind like fire and a boyish disregard of the consequences of his curiosity.


Kade’s mind was so crystal clear and his vision so pure and so awe-inspiring in its way and yet so terrifying to her.


Always project confidence, Nakamura had taught her. Even when they have the physical upper hand, you can have the psychological advantage.


You can hurt people with guns. You can get them to do awful things with words. Books are as dangerous as anything I’m doing. We need this. ‘Our current problems can’t be solved by the level of thinking that created them.’ Einstein said that. This can take us to a new level of thinking.”


Propaganda is the first tool of government, Wats had said. Skepticism. He would hold onto it.


SHANKARI: Well, we knew we could get data in too. Nexus nodes talk to each other by radio. INTERVIEWER: How do they talk by radio? SHANKARI: I dunno. Fucking nanotubes are little radios all by themselves, man.


No wonder the international meeting trumps the US neuroscience meetings these days, Kade thought. The cutting edge stuff isn’t legal at home any more.


“Hey, nice T-shirt!” Kade looked down at his chest. He was wearing his favorite DJ Axon shirt, the one with Rangan’s face and alternating sine waves superimposed over a brilliantly blue glowing neuronal protrusion, obviously about to pulse forth enormous energies, presumably in the form of sick beats.


“Scientists have to show respect for the law, Professor,” Franks replied. “Perhaps the law should show respect for science instead, Doctor.”


Our fear has crippled us.”


Kade had to choose. If at all possible. That’s what Buddhism said. Every individual had to make their own choices in life. Wats couldn’t impose what he thought was right on Kade, especially with so much in the balance. The ones who imposed their own will on others – they were the ones wrecking the world.


Such a strange country, Sam thought to herself. A quarter million monks who don’t drink or smoke or swear. A quarter million prostitutes filling in all the spaces where the monks aren’t.


He who fights too long against dragons becomes a dragon himself; and if you stare too long into the abyss, the abyss stares also into you.


Kade wandered a maze of choices as Narong led them through the maze of alleys.


“You know, that’s what I’ve heard, anyway. I’d never do anything illegal like that.” His voice dripped sarcasm. Everyone but Baroma laughed.


In seeking to uncover the causes of an event, ask yourself: who stands to benefit from it?


He stepped into the mask of false memories Shu had created for him. He widened the connection to Sam, watched as she roved through his mind. He weighed the texture of the alternate memories. They were a script more than anything else. A story. Shu had filled in the details beneath them, but the mind did that so well on its own. Memories were narratives. They were stories. If he could master the right narrative, put it on like a mask, he could fool anyone. Could he craft a convincing narrative for that brief moment of contact with Ananda?


Buddhism suits me ’cuz nobody’s in charge. Nobody’s decidin’ for me if I’m good or bad, goin’ to heaven or hell. It’s just me workin’ on my head, you workin’ your head, the friggin’ Dalai Lama workin’ on his head. Democracy,


Buddhism suits me ’cuz nobody’s in charge. Nobody’s decidin’ for me if I’m good or bad, goin’ to heaven or hell. It’s just me workin’ on my head, you workin’ your head, the friggin’ Dalai Lama workin’ on his head.


He was too hard to piss when it was his turn. He ran through prime numbers for ages until his hardness subsided,


Conflict is inevitable, Shu had said after their dinner. You have to decide if you’re on the side of progress… or of stagnation.


Only fools are always certain of themselves