Six
Chevy’s pressure suit smelled of disinfectant, over lingering traces of other people’s sweat. The suit hung too loose on him everywhere, but he was a few centimeters too big to wear a medium. He’d tightened the suit as much as he could, trying not to think of how intimately this same suit had cradled complete strangers, but his every motion still felt floppy.
The crowded elevator opened onto the outside world. Chevy felt unwilling to move forward, but the contact team’s Brownian motion meant he could accompany them or fall on his face. He unwillingly lurched out onto the basalt platform overlooking the bay.
He couldn’t help stopping in amazement at the stark beauty of this appalling world. He’d seen this on video, but his own eyes lent it a whole different reality.
Montague’s stupi
