Explore "Pythias" by Frederik Pohl on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Sure, Larry Connaught saved my / / life -- but it was how he did it / / that forced me to murder him!
I am sitting on the edge of what passes for a bed. It is made of loosely woven strips of steel, and there is no mattress, only an extra blanket of thin olive-drab. It isn't comfortable; but of course they expect to make me still more uncomfortable.