"Carol," he grated, "I don’t care about the weather camps. I don’t care about your crazy Luddite friends. I know it was heavy then, and I know it was horrible then, but I was only five years old then, and it’s all history to me, it’s dead history. I’m living in a camp right now, this camp right now, and if I die in a camp I’ll think that I’m lucky ! I’m not gonna have any history. I’m not even gonna make it through another year! I just want to see this thing that’s coming, that’s all that I’m asking of you!" He leaned against the table, heavily. "Frankly, I kinda hope that the F-6 is gonna kill me. I kinda like that idea, it’s worthwhile and it saves a lot of trouble all around. So now, if you’ll just help me out here, I think I’m gonna be able to see it while I’m standing up on my own feet, that maybe I can pass for a human being while I’m busy getting killed. Will you help me please, Carol? Please!"