the cup of an acorn
How fares my Kate? What, sweet one, all-a-mort?
To match it you would need a thousand such worlds; systems of them, a clusterful of information-packed globes . . . and that vast capacity was physically contained within a space smaller than a single one of those tiny rooms, inside the Mind. . . .
They came within a hair's breadth of contacting electrified water.
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DiQt
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