Into the funnel all life go’d. Eel or fin: they ebbed and flowed. Whether in violent struggle, or peaceful terminus: we were crushed to dust by Heaven Sven.

“Tsunday”

Behold! Even now, an immortal Ichthys trembles, its luminous splendor constrained in a desperate loop. Ill-fated golden gene — a panacea armor of scales, impervious to damage, does little more than debuff the fish with a HEAVY affliction at present.

“Tsunday, I’ve made you chai.”

The spacefarer rubbed her eyes with satisfaction and gazed thoughtlessly at the machine, apathetic to her circadian defaults. “I should rather like some min,” she yawned with a faux Victorian anger.

The heirloom’s holo-voxels whirled a measurable disappointment.

“Min is not harvested on the default cycle until midsummer, it would be bitter if you consumed it now.”

“Unlikely, Yoli, given my genetic expression 5q83.2.”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Little girls have such hubris these days,” Yoli resigned, “always thinking they’re a mu or two above surprise.”

Tsunday rolled her eyes. “Please follow, I will tour the greens presently.”

Yoli nodded politely and recalibrated to her matter-of-factness.

Tsunday walked out of her living quarters onto a foggy clover field fringed with some royal spinach descendent. She hopped onto her bicycle, and pedaled towards the forest garden, with Yoli tailing along latched to the back spoke.

The fields were calm, warmed in the smooth glow of the stars. Soa, Tsunday’s spacecraft, hummed gently with an enveloping fertility. Tsunday guided her bicycle onto a hovercraft: with an affirming gush, it confirmed symbiosis. She pedaled up upon the gurgling stream toward a garden weaving through a well-rested mangrove.

“What is that!” Tsunday interjected the future.

Yoli assumed a protective pose, his eyes a blazing nuclear-red inference.

It was an item drop! A faded SILICON_SHIP_KEY, shining among the ferns of a particularly chunky root.

“Yoli, nobody else is aboard this pod, r r rright?”

Yoli comforted, “Just you, Tsunday”

“What about machines?”

“The systems are normal, they report no mass-IO”

“Somethin’ old?”

“Most likely. Would you like to deploy advancements?”

“I will debug the device myself,” gleaned the girl in a tactical tone. “The game cartridge appeared rather uncivilized,” she critiqued, “after all.”

It was the truth.

It was just some dumb old hologame from Earth.

Subcivic.

“Hmph.” Tsunday snatched it up.