Poets are the mad midwives to reality. They see not what is, nor what can be, but what must become.” — Dan Simmons

The lieutenant took his time scanning their visa chips, letting them wait in the drizzle, occasionally making a comment with the idle arrogance common to such nobodies who have just come into a small bit of power.

In such seconds of decision entire futures are made.

There is something about raising a child that helps to sharpen one’s sense of what is real.