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“There’s always something beautiful, in destruction, I find,” Don said. “It’s such a stark reminder that nothing lasts forever.”
“Like Authority?” Rodin said. He’d forced the pillows up behind his head—wasn’t sitting upright, but he wasn’t flat out now.
Don sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if your apparent intelligence is nothing but fortunate guess-work. My dear friend, we’re too large, and far too complex, to fall. Oh, we might lose certain sections—take the bunker, for instance. A liability, clearly, after two successful escapes, and so that section has been closed. But we take what we’ve learnt from those failings and use them to strengthen other areas. We’re adaptable, you see. A concept such as Empathine might die out, but it gives birth to something new, something bette
