Sum
@Summmluv
She smiles. She says his name.
Ender Wiggin, my precious.
‘A ship for the Hive Queen and a ship for the pequeninos.’
‘That’s what they intend,’ said Ender. ‘But the way I see it is – two ships for the Descolada.’
Bazı hikâyeler tam tahmin ettiğin gibi ilerler. Bazılarıysa son sayfada tüm bildiklerini sorgulatır. 🤯
Ters köşeleri seviyorsan, seni sonuna kadar merakta bırakacak 3 kitap önerisini keşfetmeye hazır ol!
Jane mylove
'...What do you think the throw might be?’
Valentine almost answered with exasperation – How should I know?
Then she realized that he wasn’t asking her. Because almost at once he supplied the answer himself. Which meant that he must have been asking the computer in his ear. No, not a ‘computer.’ Jane.
‘What are they doing that requires a building so tall?’ asked Miro.
‘I don’t know,’ said Valentine.
They were skirting a building that was at least three hundred meters high; in the near distance they could see more than a dozen others.
For the first time on this excursion, Plikt spoke up. ‘Rockets,’ she said.
Valentine caught a glimpse of Ender smiling a bit and nodding slightly. So Plikt had confirmed his own suspicions.
‘I’ll walk,’ said Miro. ‘I’ll take the long way. The rest of you go on ahead.’
Novinha and Ela started to protest, but Miro saw Andrew put his hand on Novinha’s arm, and as for Ela, she was silenced by Quim’s arm around her shoulder.
‘Come straight home,’ said Ela. ‘However long it takes you, do come home.’
‘Where else?’ asked Miro.
Ender the Xenocide, yes, but also the Speaker for the Dead, the one who wrote The Hive Queen and The Hegemon. Miro knew that now, of course, but when he had first met Wiggin it was with hostility – he was just an itinerant Speaker for the Dead, a minister of a humanist religion who seemed determined to turn Miro’s family inside out. Which he had done. I think I was luckier than they are, thought Miro. I got to know him as a person before I ever knew him as a great figure in human history. They’ll probably never know him as I do.
And I don’t really know him at all. I don’t know anybody, and nobody knows me. We spend our lives guessing at what’s going on inside everybody else, and when we happen to get lucky and guess right, we think we ‘understand.’ Such nonsense. Even a monkey at a computer will type a word now and then.