I should close the container. I should flood it with plasma. Instead, I reach for the fruit.
The ship's alarms blare. Atmospheric contamination. Unauthorized biological spread. But I’m breathing fine. Better than fine. I feel the way I did as a child, before I learned that the universe was cold and indifferent. g+ ark
I wonder if they’ll thank me. Or if they’ll have to be planted, too. I should close the container
But the frost on the viewport writes back: "We are not a weapon. We are the answer." g+ ark