"I get why it's in the interests of the community to create a whole stifling raft of laws," said Ailee. "I don't get why it's considered a moral good for exceptional members of the community to [i]obey[/i] them."

She's not snappy, authoritative, demanding. There are no dramatic finger-points or declarations. She's got her arms folded on the rail, looking out at the desert with a pensive expression. Her hands twitch - twitcha twitcha, tappa tappa, conducting some imaginary symphony or playing air piano. She sometimes tilts her head like she can hear the invisible music.

"Once you get a group of seven or more somebody has to be in charge," said Ailee. "And that somebody then immediately does everything in their power to make sure they're in charge forever. In extremis they'll sell their souls to the clown god to make sure that it really is forever. Hereditary monarchy is just a primitive form of immortality. It's this fucking brain-worm that grows inside the head of anyone who so much as joins the student council. And then all the garbage that pours out of their mouths becomes tradition and morality and law - and none of that shit even prevents crime or civil war, it just means that when those things happen the new guy is chained by the same bullshit. Exceptional people," pause to admire herself in her hand mirror, "have to spend so much effort figuring out how to game the system in order to make even the smallest improvement. It's why civilization advances at a crawl."