"Welcome to Hell," Captain Gardarov said. He handed over the keys that would give Corterelli access to the station's computers, sensors, and – Unity forbid – weapons.
"Er..." Corterelli juggled the bundle uneasily.
"Don't worry." Gardarov was unshaven and greasy, his grin disturbing. "you'll hear them soon enough. The whispers. And you'll curse the weeks. Thought it was a bargain, eh? Full year's pay for three months? The whispers know. They know so much..."
Corterelli made to respond, but Gardarov shoved past him into the transport. With a hiss, he was gone. Corterelli looked around. He cocked his head and listened.
Pinker on When Being Too Bright Ruins Writing
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