”The word adjusted scratches at the back of my mind again as I write this, that unpleasant tinny sensation of a term that does not allow of real translation and which has been inadequately replaced. It was a hot sticky evening, and that was my excuse. I did send money home. “We’ve got a job to do,” he said.
He stands tall and skinny in the doorway’s exact center, as if demonstrating how unnecessarily wide it is. Impossible on Earth. His discarded bodies were left with heroin addiction, genital sores, hangovers and custom-made viruses that were supposed to self-destruct but not always did. Why none of the captains talk to you much.
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