Forty-Three
People have invented spectacular things. The Portal. Antibiotics. Moon rockets and the Mars colony, music that guts or heals, stories that grant hope and enlightenment, food that mends souls. My favorite, though? The invention that surpasses all others?
Soap.
Yes, all those arts and machines and triumphs are glorious. But when you’ve been fighting for your life, nothing says civilization and comfort like really good soap in a shower stall roomy enough to scrub without knocking your elbows.
When the soap smells of lavender and sage, your civilization is complete.
Okay, fine, there’s also toothpaste, but that’s technically a subspecies of soap.
I had the shower room to myself. I had the whole of the so-you’ve-drunk-the-heavy-water Decontamination Suite to myself. A six-room
