“Don’t stereotype, Jenks. HAPA is an equal-opportunity hate group,” I said.”

“Citizenship is more than an individual exchange of freedoms for rights; it is also membership in a body politic, a nation, and a community. To be deemed fair, a system must offer its citizens equal opportunities for public recognition, and groups cannot systematically suffer from misrecognition in the form of stereotype and stigma.”

“HAPA was like mint. You could rip it up, and six months later, it was back, healthier than ever. Mint smelled better, though, and you could make juleps out of it. I don’t know what I could make out of HAPA. Compost, maybe.”

“I have a fetish for damsels in distress.”“Don’t be sexist.”“Not at all. My services are also available to gentlemen in distress. It’s an equal opportunity fetish.”

“Have any of your clients died?” Ford asked. “Someone you were trying to help?” “Brett,” Jenks said. “Peter?” I blurted out. But the amulet went a negative gray. “Nick,” Jenks said nastily, and the color on the metal disk became a violent shade of purple. Ford blinked, trying to divorce himself from the hate. “I’d say no,” he whispered.”

“You don’t like people who have money, do you? (Astrid)I’m not prejudiced against anyone, princess. I hate everyone equally. (Zarek)”