Fall; or, Dodge in Hell: A Novel

“You see much in the day that needs to be sorted through, picked over, weeded, made sense of. That happens while you sleep. When you wake up, you remember what was important and you have it all sorted. For me, these things happen in the moment. And I have less need than you of forgetting.” “Does that mean you remember more?” “I am constituted diffe

the Quest’s purpose, as preordained by the mysterious powers in the world from which I was sent, is not just to make everything perfect for one raven but rather to effect a transformation in your souls.

The emergence of these things was not an act of creating new out of nothing, but a kind of slow remembrance.

become conscious and extracted his soul from chaos,

But becoming rich had changed what he believed, not by the more academic route of challenging his evidence and debating his logic, but by changing the sorts of things that he was predisposed to want to believe.

more likely what edit stream he subscribed to and what particular flavor of post-reality it was pumping into his mind.

enabled each individual person to live twenty-four/seven in their own personalized hallucination stream.

The Internet—what Dodge used to call the Miasma—had just gone completely wrong. Down to the molecular level it was still a hippie grad student project. Like a geodesic dome that a bunch of flower children had assembled from scrap lumber on ground infested with termites and carpenter ants.

The younger lawyer was named Marcus, he was from Shaker Heights, he had attended Penn, where he had majored in philosophy and lettered in rowing. After a stint working in a rural Mississippi town with Teach for America, he had gone on to Stanford Law School. He had a lovely wife of Korean ancestry and a six-month-old baby and was just days away fro