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“The shell, it looks alive…” Zara stands awestruck, admiring the seamless shape of the gravity-defying vessel. “Classic flying saucer look, no seams, as if it was moulded into shape,” she touches the shell, it recoils away from her hand, “it feels alive.” A metallic voice sounds, reverberating around the vessel. A feminine voice. “Assertion. I am alive and right here in front of you—who pray tell are you?” — J.L. Haynes
The shell, it looks alive…” Zara stands awestruck, admiring the seamless shape of the gravity-defying vessel. “Classic flying saucer look, no seams, as if it was moulded into shape,” she touches the shell, it recoils away from her hand, “it feels alive.”
A metallic voice sounds, reverberating around the vessel. A feminine voice.
“Assertion. I am alive and right here in front of you—who pray tell are you?