My companion, or rather my ex-companion, had to be removed from the project on Larissa for attempts at sabotage. Most of him was unmade and joined the particulate matter flowing through ducts between algae farms. I maintained his skin to create crude, flappy percussion instruments. I spend some of my downtime practising them. In the flat space, they sound more like bangings on hard rubber than what they are supposed to be, but that may be the fault of the resonating chambers or the general lack of acoustic conductance within the tiny, atmosphered living chamber.
Unfortunately for me and for the project, the algae is failing. Despite the effort, most shielding from debris and radiation is useless. When the last farm is converted to waste, I’ll, too, be unmade. Perhaps the drums will remain to be discovered by another generation.
