Words for today…
And with the coldest blood, Azlanteca had almost overlaid my mind with a new, dark consciousness, a terrible superhuman logic. It was no wonder these… men had had an Adze puppet to so easily alter and manipulate. Because I had somehow resisted him, my mind had been left to its own devices, free. But I could easily have now been a stranger to myself.
“The old gods,” he pointed skywards, “up there, in space, where it is utterly cold, where there is no air… and me… see this world as full of so much… unripe fruit. You may call them humanity. But every so often one comes across a seed… with so much potential… a seed such as yourself.”
“Are you a god?” I asked him.
“A god regards me as I regard a mote of dust. No,” he said. “And that mote of dust is you.”
“A mote of dust that will not move,” Galibi added. “Stubborn.”
“You will stay in line, and I… we, Galibi and I, shall ensure that.”