It was against regulations to disable the comm. She trotted into the kitchen to fetch the sub-sink space toolkit. “Don’t contact me again.” Kellim broke the connection. “I’m glad, you’re okay,” said the raven-haired Meela. “It’s nothing to do with you, just as I, also, am nothing to do with you. “Since when have you been interested in science?” asked Kellim inhospitably. “On your secret government space farm? It’s something to do with the splicing enzyme that’s in the news, isn’t it?” Despite the controlled ambient temperature, a line of furious sweat prickled her firm breasts. “You care about me?” Likewise a frown formed between Kellim’s pea-green orbs. “You know that!” A frown line formed between Meela’s ebony, black orbs. Partially unenthusiastically she dialled the ansible. Kellim had to talk to her voluptuous ex-paramour. “I hope you’re okay, Kellim.” Just a few words from her busty ex-lover made Kellim tremble like a convulsive leaf. Reluctantly, but determinedly, Kellim trudged to the comm. Tears formed in her pea green orbs when the protestors fell like strands of grass. She gasped when the NewWelsh Army fired vigorously into the crowds. Kellim frowned at the sight of the NewWales Colony ration protesters. At her entreaty, the wall displayed the news. It felt good to be nano-scientifically clean after eight hours in the meat fields. Kellim shrugged out of her latexly clinging bio-suit and took a much needed shower. What’s Wrong With Your Eyes? by The DIY Publisher No, It’s Not Fire, and It’s Not a Bloody Shower, Either.
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