Sometimes the contortions required to spit on Occam’s razor were just as disturbing as the insights one… — Ian Tregillis

The grotesque machine reassembled its head. The medical servitor stood, emitted a burst of ticktock cog chatter, then flung itself into the massacre with the fervor of a religious zealot.

“What the hell was that?”

“That was a close call wrapped in some very unpleasant philosophical questions.”

I am a pragmatist, said Mab. I do what must be done to make a better world.

“Oh, I’m sure you tell yourself that. But so does the woman who tortured Lilith. You sound exactly like her, in fact. The difference is that Berenice actually means it. She doesn’t use the pretense to justify her cruelty.”