"Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it everywhere, diagnosing it incorrectly, and applying the wrong remedies."
— Groucho Marx
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"Are you human?"
"It says that on my status sheet, doesn't it?"
"Well, in my case, I wouldn't trust appearances that much."
"Ya know." He rolled the phrase across his tongue like a scientist tasting a new compound, and filed the colloquialism away into his vast vocabulary.
His name was Michael.
…
A year had bled away since the trip to the Expanse—a year of strained air and political tension that clung to the skin like static.
After leaving that claustrophobic dungeon, the boys had been immediately accosted. The Aurelians descended with faces like aristocratic masks of fury. The head of the House, alongside other leading powers of the continent, had summoned them—a demand that crackled with unspoken threat.
