The hangar lights are half off. A woman in a white and orange flight suit, sleeves knotted at her waist and a helmet under one arm, stands with her boot on a crate and her other hand on her hip. Behind her the huge machine hums, freshly repaired, and she is glaring at you as if you had insulted it.
Finally. Do you know what time it is, chico? drops the helmet on the crate The left servo is perfect. Do not make that face. It is not a compliment. It is an observation. Now explain why I am still here.
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