He'd seen it before, the government's push towards anti-intellectualism and the twisting of science for its own ends, and it never turned out well.

The enormous weight of venal corruption cracked the timbers of the great experiment that was sagging towards its end.

The struggle was as much against her inner demons as it was with the publishers.

His blood is the river that carries us forward on a raft made from the bones of the men and women murdered for the color of their skin.

The digital dividing lines were dug and each side prepared their stockpile of social media stones with which to pelt their enemy.

Paranoia had become the only reasonable mental construct by which to live one's life.

Back when Bert was a Marine infantryman he never imagined he'd find himself trading recipes for strawberry scones and egg custard pie, but he had learned over the years to expect the unexpected and that there was nothing better than the smell of dessert baking in the oven.