Fe Wacyk

“Amanda, still thinking more about Harry Mize than the issues before the committee, lunged forward and snatched the note from Kershing’s hand. After reading it, she stood up and walked out of the hearing, leaving the receipt on her chair. Rick glanced up as she walked out. Then, he picked up his receipt and read Kershing’s words. Get the trucks in position. It’s time to go.”
― Chad Boudreaux, Scavenger Hunt

“Perhaps the most chaotic of Divisions Ke Hui Feng 第一 Ψ
visited was Recycling. First, it was mammoth, so big most of
her tour was spent aboard a drone. Thousands of Dazhong
used the 401 thoroughfares from both east and west, the 427
from the south and the 400 from the north to bring their loads of
recyclables from the MASS to the enormous MEG Recycling Centre.
The roadways might be in ruins outside the MEG boundaries, jagged
fragments of pavement between cavernous potholes and trails made by
traders, but within the MEG the wide lanes had been cleared and
covered with recycled rubber. They were smooth and divided, one lane
in—one lane out, between hundred-metre high foamstone walls on
either side. No one from the MASS would ever get into the MEG illegally;
at least, that was how it seemed.
Only those with proper credentials could enter the massive gates:
MASS traders, or trading companies, who specialized as middlemen
between the gatherers and the Recycling Centre. Not far outside the
gates the MASS traders had rebuilt ancient warehouses in which they
received goods, stored, and sorted them, then brought them, usually
by land freighters, down the ingress roads to meet MEG approved Di
sān overseers and, of course, decontaminated Dazhong who further
sorted the goods.”
― Brian Van Norman, Against the Machine: Evolution

“Mary stared at the dreamlike happenings on the page. Human figures faced each other; the man’s head was a golden ball with rays reaching up to huge stars and out to the distant mountains; the woman’s silver head was sickle-shaped and surrounded by birds like eagles with white beaks. Some of the black letters glowed because they had tips like tiny flames.”
― Susan Rowland, The Alchemy Fire Murder

“This was a moment Alberon had dreamed of, and he gave no thought to his lost and banished lover, although he did at times wonder about the child. Did he have a bastard son or a daughter? But it really did not matter any more. It was simply the mistake of a love struck youth.”
― Robert Reid, The Emperor