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The Blue Bottle by Emilie-Noelle Provost, Paperback | Barnes & Noble®
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Theodore Scott's life had been one long slide since leaving graduate school. Banned from future research, divorced from his wife, and stuck in a dead-end job at the Central Intelligence Agency, he must now deal with the death of his best friend and mentor, Antonio Bojas, a brilliant Brazilian physicist killed in a tragic lab mishap deep in the Amazon rainforest.
But after the demise of another scientist in the same field, Theo begins piecing together clues that suggest Antonio's death was no accident. Tracking the evidence leads Theo on a chase spanning continents, propelling him toward a secret so dangerous someone is willing to kill— or be killed— to protect the world from it.
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- The Blue Bottle by Emilie-Noelle Provost, Paperback | Barnes & Noble®?
- The Demon in the Blue Bottle.
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And even if they do not feel pain, why should that make it alright to carelessly kill them?
Anaesthetized patients feel no pain, but they are not generally in danger of sudden, unreasonable death. Yes, but only in comparison to ourselves. What if flies were as big as whales? Would we be quite so casual and carefree about snuffing out the life of a Moby Dick-sized bluebottle? And if size is a mitigating factor in the acceptability of insecticide, then how do we know where to draw the line?
Do we have an innate mental yardstick that enables us to gauge the value of a life? A shabby folding-rule marked along its length with the simplistic outlines of all living creatures, ranging from unicellular organisms at the bottom to humans at the top, and with a thick red felt-tip line drawn somewhere near the bottom that marks the point below which life is worthless?
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I kill the milkman — I am arrested, charged with murder, tried by jury, sentenced and put in jail for the rest of my life. Therefore I do not kill the milkman unless I am absolutely sure that I will get away with it. Who makes the laws? I decided I would just have to grin and bear my guilt whilst watching the cricket on TV. I had just started looking for the remote control when the doorbell rang. I opened the door and there stood two rather bemused-looking policemen. Behind them, across the street, I caught a glimpse of Mrs. Rashmi grabbed me by the hand and the two of us took off running down a hallway that had just materialized near the front door.
I looked over my shoulder; Paganini was in hot pursuit, still playing the violin.
When I looked back we were no longer in the hallway, but in the infinite forest of Tales of Hoffmann. We batted the notes away as we ran, until we left the forest and the wind behind, coming to the infinite staircase. The second means you owe me a favor. Ask for a third wish at your peril. Arlis took little notice. He nodded to himself. Arlis raised an eyebrow at Surien. Surien glared at him, but slumped into the couch and let him talk. You showed up on our list of assignments, so we picked you up last night. But while I have the powers of the universe at my disposal, I can make you a device or radar of some kind that will direct you to the location of any magical being who has been wrongfully imprisoned.
Arlis put his hands up immediately.