The professor sat on the terrace of an abandoned tech facility. Once, solar panels were tested here. Now, it looked as if even the Sun itself had lost interest. A few stubborn bushes survived thanks to the rain and defiance. Overhead, an old floodlight kept short-circuiting — a flicker in memory of shifts that would never happen again. Maybe silence had chosen this forgotten perimeter to speak finally.
By his feet sat a flask of Japanese whisky — a gift from Cat. The very one given after their first clean mission. Spacelunch stared into the dark, trying to sense the outlines of life. Things used to be simpler. A home on Earth. A garage where a pet — once just a cat saved from a burning room as a cub — first spoke. “I should’ve never started those experiments,” he thought. But the images came anyway — the action, the laughter, the arguments — all of it made sense once, as long as someone was walking beside him, who could meow outside of protocol. Somewhere between the missions, the mistakes, the tall tales — their bond had dissolved. But by now, it was far too late to analyze anything.
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The professor sat on the terrace of an abandoned tech facility. Once, solar panels were tested here. Now, it looked as if even the Sun itself had lost interest. A few stubborn bushes survived thanks to the rain and defiance. Overhead, an old floodlight kept short-circuiting — a flicker in memory of shifts that would never happen again. Maybe silence had chosen this forgotten perimeter to speak finally.
By his feet sat a flask of Japanese whisky — a gift from Cat. The very one given after their first clean mission. Spacelunch stared into the dark, trying to sense the outlines of life. Things used to be simpler. A home on Earth. A garage where a pet — once just a cat saved from a burning room as a cub — first spoke. “I should’ve never started those experiments,” he thought. But the images came anyway — the action, the laughter, the arguments — all of it made sense once, as long as someone was walking beside him, who could meow outside of protocol. Somewhere between the missions, the mistakes, the tall tales — their bond had dissolved. But by now, it was far too late to analyze anything.
Taken aback by what had happened, Cat dragged himself toward the local junk dealers — the kind who bought anything without asking questions. The chances of finding the smart bracelet in piles and piles of used scrap were slim, but it was worth a shot while the trails were still fresh. He took a turn into an alley, came up to the gate, and rang the bell. A small eye-slot opened with a creak, followed by a gravelly voice:
— Keep moving. We’re not expecting anyone.
— Easy there, friend. I’m an intergalactic investigator on a high-priority case.
— Information isn’t free.
— Let me in and we’ll talk shop.
The bluff worked. The old man grinned and shut the door behind him. Inside, as Cat scanned the shelves suffocated with dust, he leaned in: “My partner is already sweeping the perimeter. You can either tell me what you know or enjoy a formal interrogation downtown.” A brief exchange revealed a list of local pickpockets, with names and addresses. The info came at a cost: one crisp hundred. Ahead lay a sleepless night and a long walk through the stink of the backstreets.
spclnch
The professor sat on the terrace of an abandoned tech facility. Once, solar panels were tested here. Now, it looked as if even the Sun itself had lost interest. A few stubborn bushes survived thanks to the rain and defiance. Overhead, an old floodlight kept short-circuiting — a flicker in memory of shifts that would never happen again. Maybe silence had chosen this forgotten perimeter to speak finally.
By his feet sat a flask of Japanese whisky — a gift from Cat. The very one given after their first clean mission. Spacelunch stared into the dark, trying to sense the outlines of life. Things used to be simpler. A home on Earth. A garage where a pet — once just a cat saved from a burning room as a cub — first spoke. “I should’ve never started those experiments,” he thought. But the images came anyway — the action, the laughter, the arguments — all of it made sense once, as long as someone was walking beside him, who could meow outside of protocol. Somewhere between the missions, the mistakes, the tall tales — their bond had dissolved. But by now, it was far too late to analyze anything.
