Just three words? Nothing about his physical health? His equipment? His supplies?''You got me,' she said. 'He left a detailed status report. I just decided to lie for no reason.''Funny,' Venkat said. 'Be a smart-ass to a guy seven levels above you at your company. See how that works out.''Oh no,' Mindy said. 'I might lose my job as an interplanetary voyeur? I guess I'd have to use my master's degree for something else.''I remember when you were shy.''I'm space paparazzi now. The attitude comes with the job.
On the day Princess Diana died, a group of students had gathered before a lecture, talking about what they had heard on the radio that morning, repeating “paparazzi” over and over, all sounding knowing and cocksure, until, in a lull, Okoli Okafor quietly asked, “But who exactly are the paparazzi? Are they motorcyclists?” and instantly earned himself the nickname Okoli Paparazzi
Fame had kept me from getting laid that night. Fame would make it so other people would bother me, follow me around with cameras, be all up in my shit, keep me from doing what I wanted to do when I wanted to do it. Fame could even potentially kill me. It killed a lot of people: John Lennon, Princess Diana, Selena.