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By William Gibson Submitted by Kirk Date: 2005 Jun 22 Comment on this Work [[2005.06.22.16.57.11624]] |
| And then she hears the sound of a helicopter, from somewhere behind her and, turning, sees the long white beam of light sweeping the dead ground as it comes, like a lighthouse gone mad from loneliness, and searching that barren ground as foolishly, as randomly, as any grieving heart ever has. --William Gibson, "Pattern Recognition" |