Repeating the past

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Peter Watts is a reformed marine biologist and failed gel-jock who is nevertheless adept at faking science, just so long as he can mix some characters and plot in among the numbers. His latest novel was nominated for several prestigious awards, winning none of them.

What you did to your uncle’s grave was unforgivable.

Your mother blamed herself, as always. You didn’t know what you were doing, she said. I could accept that when you traded the shofar I gave you for that eMotiv headset, perhaps, or even when you befriended those young toughs with the shaved heads and the filthy mouths. I would never have forgiven the swastika on your game pod but you are my daughter’s son, not mine. Maybe it was only adolescent rebellion. How could you know, after all? How could any child really know, here in 2017? Genocide is far too monstrous a thing for history books and grainy old photographs to convey. You were not there; you could never understand.

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