“The border between the Real and the Unreal is not fixed, but just marks the last place where rival gangs of shamans fought each other to a standstill.”
– Robert Anton Wilson
“There’s so few of us now,” Lucinda said. He stepped over the wreckage of the passenger craft down the torn remnants of a hallway. “Ebabwe is gone, so is Helena. There are so few of us to shape things anymore.”
The BIGGEST minutiae 