Just a whisper. I hear it in my ghost.

If we all reacted the same way, we'd be predictable, and there's always more than one way to view a situation. What's true for the group is also true for the individual. It's simple: overspecialize, and you breed in weakness. It's slow death.

When I float weightless back to the surface, I'm imagining I'm becoming someone else. It's probably the decompression.

Well, I guess cyborgs like myself have a tendency to be paranoid about our origins.

So what happens if she turns over in her sleep? Won't her ghost separate from her body?

Maybe someday your "maker" will come … haul you away, take you apart, and announce the recall of a defective product. What if all that's left of the "real you" is just a couple of lonely brain cells, huh?

What we really need, Togusa, is not sharpshooting skills, so much as the ability to get close enough to make sure the enemy can be killed. If you want to play at long-range sniping, you can always go shoot an elephant at 500 miles with a miniature cruise missile …

As revenge for the fact that two of my men were killed, I even set it up so he would shoot his own son – through a door.

What we see now is like a dim image in a mirror. Then we shall see face to face.