A man said to the universe: “Sir, I exist!” “However” replied the universe, “The fact has not created in me A sense of obligation.”
Sweat covered Brion’s body, trickling into the tight loincloth that was the only garment he wore. The light fencing foil in his hand felt as heavy as a bar of lead to his exhausted muscles, worn out by a month of continual exercise. These things were of no importance.
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