Nothing’s immortal on a road trip of a billion years. The universe runs down in stop-motion around you, your backups’ backups’ backups need backups. Not even the error-correcting replication strategies cadged from biology can keep the mutations at bay forever. — The Freeze Frame Revolution
Dead fin and fluttering gill, the tremor disembodied, the slap-crawl of something meant for four legs that had two. Little curling shrimp creatures trapped in puddles that hatched and died, hatched and died perpetual, the same organism over and over, its own procreation. Toxic. A closed vessel. A piece of genetic material dovetailing, perpetual and never ending, and never really living, either. - Borne
“Rachel, what happens when we die? Where do we go?”
“Nowhere, Borne. We go into the ground and we don’t come back out.”
“I don’t think that’s true, Rachel. I think we go somewhere. Not to heaven or to hell, but we go somewhere. I know we must go somewhere.”
“Because I came to you to say that I know how to make everything right again. I can see it so clearly, and I can do it now. I can do it. I’ll make things right. You’ll see—and you’ll know I was telling the truth.”
“I won’t abandon you, Rachel,” he said.
“You think you’ve abandoned me, but I know you haven’t. Not really. And I won’t abandon you. Ever. You’ll see. You’ll understand.”
“I like the Mord proxies more now, though,” Borne said.
“I’m hunting them down because they want to kill you. They’re hard to kill, but I am trying. If they were all gone, the Balcony Cliffs would be safe again, Rachel. You wouldn’t have to hide as much. Maybe I could see you more and we could talk more. You could come down with me to the river. You could go with me lots of places.”