Psychedelic. It was an apt description of Colony 3. Pink and green and purple and orange struggled for dominance in the rock formation I was standing on. More of a rock expression really, with bulges and spires and shells projecting lumpily in every direction.
Psychedelic, lumpy, and bright. I closed my eyes.
“You can adjust your helmet tint, you know,” Shona said over the general comms channel.
“Oh. Right.” I touched the side of my head. Nothing.
“Focus your eyes on the far upper right quadrant, and a menu will appear,” Arno said over a private channel.
“Thanks.”
“Didn’t you get any training at all?”
“No. When would I have?”
Arno shrugged, setting up a ripple of motion across his back. The spacesuit material was a fluid, I realized. It hadn’t seemed that way when I put it on, but now, when I touched the side of my arm, I saw the iridescent pattern of my own fingerprint.