Seventh 2 Survive (WAYHAUGHT)

25-0.43

Waverly continued to stare at the pod. Sharing Nicole's files, the ones supposedly reserved for that Admiral bitch, suddenly made this whole sex with yellows and neurals icky gross. That and others 'finding comfort' in her, as Nicole had put it. Icky, icky gross.

"So?" Nicole said.

Hands on her hips, Waverly blinked several times, finding it harder to focus on the blue light pulsating around the pod, and the stupid pod itself, and the stupid lid dangling above. Nothing sexy, nothing romantic, the moment little more than a mechanical transaction. From being curious about Haught's sex life, the reality of what neurals might entail had become less than appealing, except the more she tried to hold onto her disappointment, the funnier it became. She found herself grinning as an image drifted across her mind, of lying on a bed of lettuce leaves. And cheese. Vegan cheese sandwiches with lettuce. She blinked again.

"Shall we do this?" Nicole pressed.

"Do what?" Her mind was now bathed in swirly thoughts. Bread sticks. Basket weave. Bubble baths. Blankets. Blue blanks. The words tickled her mind.

"This?"

"Blanks," she whispered, the letters sherbet, fizzy and silly against her tongue. "Blan...kets. Blank...ets."

"Do you want to give it a try?"

She waggled her arms like a huffy child.

Nicole pulled the now-familiar canister of yellows from her pocket, Waverly unable to suppress a snort. "What's wrong?"

"Pockets."

"What?"

"Pockets." Another snort escaped, much to her amusement. "Pockets of space."

"You okay?"

"Not funny, not funny. Pockets, and pockets, and..." Her words slowed, eager to savour each of the letters as they popped inside her mouth. "P...o...c...k...e...t."

Nicole watched as her companion fell into a fit of laughter. She too found herself grinning, then giggling, before joining her. "Okay, I guess it's funny," she said, wiping her eyes. "Do you want to be linked to my neurals?"

"Stop. Stop," Waverly replied, holding her sides, taking deeper breaths.

The smile left Nicole's face, her expression turning to one of concern. "You need to lie down."

"Bet you say that to all the pockets," Waverly slurred, staggering a little.

"Waverly you need..."

Before she could utter another word Waverly had crashed. Nicole got to her as she was about to hit the concrete floor, placing her in the pod. She tapped the controls on the side.

"Nitrogen levels elevated. Death in 0.43."

Nicole stood back allowing the lid to close. "Increase oxygen."

"Commencing adjustment."

Nicole waited by the pod, watching as Waverly's oxygen levels were brought back to a sustainable level. A close call, Nicole annoyed with herself for not realising sooner. Reason enough to return to the twenty-first century. Waverly roused, panicking at being inside the salad bowl.

Nicole opened the lid manually. "Hi."

"What happened?"

"You are not used to this environment. It will take time for you to adjust."

"My head is killing me. What were we talking about?"

"Space pockets," Nicole replied.

"Space pockets?"