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Tattooed
she could make me do anything, but this time she didn't have to. i should have cottoned on to her when i'd looked over her shoulder at some notes she was making about melanin-related compounds; she waited for three days (my mean time between memory failures) before borrowing my nanotech lego, and she only borrowed enough to encode something about the size of a virus. a week after that she stayed up until four in the morning playing old vector-graphic games on the MAMEframe. when i woke up the next day she'd removed all of the carpets from the living room floor and was puttering about with a LOGO-driven electric toy turtle, making it dance like a dazed bee. i should have put these unrelated and uncharacteristic episodes together, but i didn't. it all made sense when i woke up after having been bedridden for four days with some kind of virus (YAAAAAAARGh yes) and found myself with a full-body tattoo which would have made The Great Omi look like a panel from a Snoopy cartoon. tattooed from the inside, goddamnit. and, no, it didn't hurt. |
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