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240 pages, Kindle Edition
First published October 11, 2022
It was no longer held to be true that all the dinosaurs had gone extinct sixty-six million years ago, after the Chicxulub impactor made its crater in Mexico. Blocked out the sun. And killed off the plants the dinosaurs needed to survive. Only the ones that wouldn’t turn into birds. There were about three thousand active satellites up in the sky, he’d read. Some twenty-thousand pieces of orbital debris. At any given moment, an average of nine thousand passenger planes flying. And yet, he’d thought as he walked, without the last of the dinosaurs the sky would be empty.
He recognized the pattern. He went to new places because they weren’t the same as the old ones. But he wanted to feel the distance in his bones and skin, the ground beneath his feet. Not step onto a plane and land in five hours after a whiskey and a nap. And not drive, either, with the speed and convenience cars gave you. He wasn’t looking for easy. He had nowhere to be and no one who needed him.
You could see what was true — that separateness had always been the illusion. A simple trick of flesh. The world was inside you after that. Because, after all, you were made of two people only at the very last instant. Before that, of a multiplication so large it couldn’t be fathomed. Back and back in time. A tree in a forest of trees, where men grew from apes and birds grew from dinosaurs.