The words were effective. After everyone else but Woon had dropped off, she went to sleep despite her anxiety. She was refreshed when the door opened with trays of food. Breakfast was a different kind of meal. There was a long, braided rope for each of them to chew on. One strand was an almost blue grey, one golden ochre, one deep ebony. Karen expected a bread texture, but it was a mixture of crisp like a cracker for the ebony, flaky for the ochre, and chewy for the bluey.
“This is a lot more delicious than I expected,” Unice Dunch said. “Much better than seaweed and fish.”
“I love seafood, but you’re right, this is really tasty. I wish I could get the recipe,” Ike Kendrick said.
“I’ll put in on my list for language bank data,” Panther said. “For now, I’ll call this blueberry liquorice twist.”
They finished in silence, all wondering what would happen next.
What happened was an explosion.
Poid bodies thudded against the dome, squashed flat. A horror show wash of spasmic tentacles with no bodies streamed by as the flat faces faded to blank from pained. Karen figured this real live movie was one she’d never get out of her head. The door banged open. Poids in water suits beckoned. Woon waved to her.
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