Under Earth’s atmosphere of car and takeaway fumes, Hilda’s calculator had upcycled into the sort of deluxe, super-duper, high-powered H-Pad that made an Earth CCT camera as out-of-date as blackboard and chalk.
Quicker than the c***k of a whip, the calculator connected with Alice, sending her receptors into overload.
Alice lit up like a Christmas tree.
She could see, hear, and smell everything Hilda could, and Alice had no sense of smell; it was missing from her sensory data.
Alice reeled over new earthly sensations as Hilda, unaware, continued to use her calculator as a pseudo mobile. She saw everything; it was like 3-D film with smell-o-vision . . .
Hilda passed the Boathouse, a small café heaving with last-minute orders of chips, pies, burgers, and rolls filled with sausages, bacon
