1n1REzE

Peter Watts 193 Blindsight
constructs I work with, they don't—"
—touch—
"Interrogate," I finished.
"You knew Chelse was an old-fashioned girl right off the top."
"Yeah, when it suits her." I gulped ale. "But she's cutting-edge
when she's got a splicer in her hand. Which isn't to say that her
strategies couldn't use some work."
"Strategies."
It's not a strategy, for God's sake! Can't you see I'm hurting
I'm on the fucking floor, Siri, I'm curled up in a ball because I'm
hurting so much and all you can do is criticize my tactics What do
I have to do, slash my goddamn wrists
I'd shrugged and turned away. Nature's trick.
"She cries," I said now. "High blood-lactate levels, makes it
easy for her. It's just chemistry but she holds it up like it was some
kind of IOU."
Pag pursed his lips. "Doesn't mean it's an act."
"Everything's an act. Everything's strategy. You know that." I
snorted. "And she's miffed because I base a skin on her"
"I don't think it's so much the actual skin as the fact that you
didn't tell her. You know how she feels about honesty in
relationships."
"Sure. She doesn't want any."
He looked at me.
"Give me some credit, Pag. You think I should tell her that
sometimes the sight of her makes me shudder"
The system called Robert Paglino sat quietly, and sipped his
drugs, and set the things he was about to say in order. He took a
breath.
"I can't believe you could be so fucking dumb," he said.
"Yeah Enlighten me."
"Of course she wants you to tell her you only have eyes for her,
you love her pores and her morning breath, and why stop at one
tweak how about ten. But that doesn't mean she wants you to lie,
you idiot. She wants all that stuff to be true. And—well, why
can't it be"
"It isn't," I said.