Chapter Text
Night was just beginning to fall on the final cycle of the Corporation Rim standard work week when I received a message. The message consisted solely of a set of coordinates and a four-hour window of time. I acknowledged receipt of this message and started making my way back to the transient housing where I had been staying.
I was not in this place because of a mission—at least, not in the sense that a mission had specifically brought me here. I had been aboard Perihelion with 1.0 on one of its unmanned cargo runs (technically, with both of us present, it would have been more accurate to call it an un-humaned cargo run), and we had been nearly three quarters of the way to our destination when Perihelion had experienced a solar array deployment failure. More specifically, it had received an alert warning it of an imminent solar array deployment failure, so it had not been an immediate emergency, but we had to find the nearest station and dock there before it became an immediate emergency.
The nearest station had been ZenithSolara, a small waystation proximal to several wormholes and at least one mining installation. It was actually strangely small for a station so close to multiple points of transit, but we were in a fairly remote part of space. Perhaps this area had never had enough travel to necessitate a larger station. Perihelion had hailed the Port Authority with a distress call and pretended to be its own captain in order to receive docking permission. We had docked, and it had begun trying to diagnose itself. I had offered to help but with 1.0 there and its own repair and maintenance drones, it had all of the help it needed. I doubt it would have wanted me to see the parts of it that needed repair, anyways.
Once it had completed its diagnostics, it had estimated that we would be at this station for at least five cycles. Some small piece of debris had lodged itself in the deployment mechanism for its solar cells and had apparently caused enough damage that simply removing it would not solve the problem. Perihelion was furious that its sensors hadn't picked up on the obstruction before it became an issue, and 1.0 was on edge because Perihelion was. Once it had been established that my help was not wanted/needed, it seemed like the best thing to do would be to go somewhere else. Which was fine. Because there was something I had wanted to try for a while, and being alone with Perihelion and 1.0 was a guaranteed way for me to continue not trying it.
I had several hard currency cards from previous work I had done, both University-affiliated and what Solicitor Pin-Lee called "freelance". I had experience in booking transient housing. I had an updated ActHuman.code (version 2.06), hundreds of hours of videos about the experience I was interested in, and now I had the time and freedom to pursue it.
I just… wasn't entirely sure how. But I had solved much more difficult puzzles.
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Where are you going? Perihelion had asked me when I had tried to disembark it, 2.3 hours after it had shared the anticipated repair timeline with 1.0 and me.
I had practiced my answer. I will be staying at Motel 3 for the duration of your repairs, to give you privacy and reduce your operational burden.
No, you won't.
I had anticipated questioning and suspicion, but (and I know that this was foolishness on my part) I had not expected outright refusal.
I… was not asking?
There is no reason for you to disembark. It is completely safe to stay aboard me during the repair process.
I never thought it wasn't.
Then why are you trying to leave? If Perihelion had eyes to narrow at me, they would have been narrowed.
Small beads of sweat were starting to well up on the back of my neck. As I said. For your privacy and—
What is the actual reason.
I hesitated. I knew how 1.0 would react to what I wanted to do, but I didn't really know how Perihelion would react. I hoped it wasn't badly.
I want to perform oral sex.
There have been very few instances in my memory bank of Perihelion being speechless. To have caused one of those instances made me feel almost… proud?
After a subjective infinity (and an objective 23 seconds), Perihelion said, You want to perform oral sex.
Yes.
On…?
A human. Potentially multiple humans.
It was speechless again, and I was definitely feeling a (probably misplaced) sense of pride. Finally, it said, Why?
The answer to this was very simple, but I was also fairly certain Perihelion would not be satisfied with it. I just want to try it.
Some of the serials that 1.0 watched had human sex scenes in them, which 1.0 always skipped over. Out of curiosity, I had watched some of the scenes. The actual sex was always artfully cut away from or otherwise obscured, and… I had still been curious. During my time with Barish-Estranza I had seen human sex acts and been made to record them, but the context here was so different. It had not been hard to obtain pornography. The real difficulty was in filtering through what was available for relevant material. I did not have the requisite parts for most of the sex acts I had seen, but I did have a mouth.
Perihelion was looking closely at me, its feed presence heavy and looming. I did not squirm—1.0 had told me that squirming only encouraged it, and that the last thing it needed was encouragement. How are you planning on doing this? Where are you finding these humans?
I do not know yet. I need to do further research.
What research have you done?
In our private feed connection, I sent it some of the videos I had been watching for inspiration.
These are not peer-reviewed. This does not count as research.
Which is why I said I needed to do further research. I did not roll my eyes, mostly because its intense staring was making rivulets of sweat run down my back.
But you were going to go stay in a motel to figure this out? It sounded exasperated, which seemed unfair.
I shrugged, a motion which was originally from the ActHuman.code, but I liked how it felt to do it.
Are you attempting to form relationships with these humans?
I am not actively attempting to form relationships with these humans. The goal is anonymous sex.
Perihelion sighed, but I could feel it looking at me with a new, different intensity that I could not decipher. I am going to help you.
Of all the possible things it could have said to me, that had not even been in my top 50 anticipated responses. Query?
You clearly do not know what you are doing. I have been running a search for human anonymous sexual practices, and cruising seems to be your best option.
It shoved a data packet at me. I opened it and felt my face flush.
I do not know if I can… If I could… Cruising seemed like too much pretending to be human on my part, and there were too many confounding variables. What if the human who picked me only wanted penetrative intercourse? What if the human who picked me only wanted to perform oral sex, not receive it? What if no humans picked me? I dug through my storage space for a video that I had returned to several times, and pushed that into our connection.
Interesting. It was quiet for 1.2 seconds, then dropped another data packet in my metaphorical face. I can utilize the station feed to try and locate one of these. Are you still going to stay on the station?
Yes. Even though I had used it primarily as an excuse to leave, I did want to give it some privacy and lessen the operational burden of having two SecUnits aboard. I knew how it felt about being compromised, even if "compromised" in this case only meant "in need of repairs". The solar array deployment failure had still been upsetting for it, and I knew that both it and 1.0 would be more comfortable with me elsewhere. And… yes, admittedly, I wanted some privacy of my own.
Fine. But I want a full report of your experience.
Oh. That was… unexpected. Did I want to give it a report? Yes, because I would probably need feedback on my performance. Okay.
I will alert you when I locate a glory hole. A pause that only lasted a fraction of a second. Be safe. And don't be stupid.
I acknowledged this, and disembarked.
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Back in my rented room, I looked through my closet. There were two items in it: a dark grey hoodie and dark grey joggers. Both were made of soft, sweatpants-ish material. Neither had any kind of identifying logos. Both had been printed for this specific purpose.
The dark grey clothing fit me perfectly, in that it was baggy enough to hide my general shape without looking suspicious. I had been concerned that the outfit was too dark, but dark tones seemed to be in style on this particular station. I had seen very few humans wearing anything that wasn't a muted tone of some kind. I checked the coordinates and the window of time again. The location was in a terminal of the station adjacent to the terminal where I currently was. It would take approximately ten minutes to get there walking at a normal human speed, and I still had nearly two hours before the designated starting time. A quick peek at my diagnostics showed that I was not in immediate need of a recharge, that all of my fluid levels were within normal parameters, that everything in me was operating normally. Which meant that the nervous, squirming feeling in my abdominal cavity was the product of my neural tissue, not a physical abnormality.
I tried pacing, hoping that the physical movements would help dissipate the nervous energy, but the room was not large enough to pace satisfactorily in and patrolling the small, cramped hallways of the transient housing was not an option unless I wanted to be immediately identified as a SecUnit. Standing in the middle of the room, sweat prickling on the back of my neck, I pulled a video from my private storage and started to play it. A human man was kneeling on the dirty floor of a hygiene cubicle—no, not a hygiene cubicle. A bathroom stall. I hadn't known the difference, but Perihelion had explained that hygiene cubicles were more self-contained and were not often found outside of ships, while bathrooms (synonyms included: restrooms, toilets, WCs, washrooms) were generally found on stations and planets. A hygiene cubicle was for one occupant and included a toilet, sink, and shower. A bathroom was generally more communal and had multiple toilets and sinks, but normally had zero showers. Toilets were separated by dividers to allow humans some amount of privacy, but… not much.
I had never been in a bathroom before. There had been no reason for me to go into one. I had been in hygiene cubicles to take showers, which I enjoyed. I was probably going to need a shower after this.
In the video, the man was fumbling at his belt buckle as he stared at a hole in the divider wall. There was only darkness visible through the hole. The man unbuckled his belt and was halfway through unzipping his pants when the sound of three short knocks made him flinch. He knocked back, three times, and there was a flash of movement through the hole. The sounds of fabric rustling and a low groan. A partially erect penis emerged through the hole, slightly flushed, and the man on the floor leaned forward to wrap his lips around the head of it.
I had to pause the video. I was sweating along my hairline and needed to move my body, but there was nowhere to do so. If I had been on Perihelion, I could have run through the hallways or even just run on the treadmill in the exercise and recreation room. Here, I could barely pace, but I made do by bouncing on the silicone-padded balls of my inorganic feet. 103 minutes remained.
When my bouncing had started to make the floor creak, I made the decision to initiate a brief shutdown/restart. That would take up the majority of the time I had to wait, and might help clear my head a bit. I laid down on the tiny mattress and closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, the countdown timer had only 10 minutes remaining. The urge to run was still present, but not as overwhelming. My head was not particularly clearer, but that was alright. At least I had managed to pass the time.
On my way out, I double-checked that the door to my rented room was locked, even though I had not left anything inside other than my non-anonymous-sex clothes. I pulled up the message from Perihelion with the coordinates, and I made my way out of the motel and through the flickering hallways of the station.
The coordinates brought me to what the signs out front declared to be a "BAR." The muffled sounds of loud music and humans talking were audible from outside as rhythmic thudding and a dull roar. Dark paper covered the windows and a dim red light seeped out around the peeling edges of the paper. A neon "OPEN" sign flickered in the door. I checked the coordinates. I checked the time. This was the place, and this was the time. I just needed to open the door.
It took me nearly 58 seconds to build up the courage to pull the handle of the door towards me. A wave of sensations hit me like a ground vehicle at a moderate speed: loud thudding music, the warmth of many human bodies in one place, the smells of smoke and human sweat and alcohol. I stepped inside, feeling like I was fighting my way through quicksand, and adjusted my audio settings to lower the background noise of the music and chatter. It was not a large building, and approximately 70% of the seats were occupied. The room was lit with the same kind of red light that shone through the windows, as well as a few sparse normal lights. Several humans glanced at me (my behavioral assessment module tagged their expressions as [curious]), but most of them turned back to their drinks and conversation quickly. My ActHuman_v2.06.code was running, and with all of my inorganics covered, I felt confident that I did not look like a SecUnit.
Every human in the establishment that I could see had a drink. I knew that humans came to bars to drink intoxicants, and it seemed like I should order one to try and blend in (even if I wouldn't be able to consume it).
"What d'ya want?" The bartender was an older human male, with augments on his elbows and wrists. His feed ID gave his name as Harls. He squinted at me, although I couldn't tell whether this was an intimidation tactic or just poor eyesight.
I randomly selected the first alcoholic drink I was able to pull from my database: "A White Venusian." I wasn't sure what went into a White Venusian, but it was at least a real drink that existed.
Harls rolled his eyes as if I had just asked for something stupid. Maybe I had? "Twenty cred."
I could have queried the local feed for menus of restaurants and bars to see whether that was a reasonable amount to charge for a drink. But I was distracted thinking about how to make it look like I was drinking and how to get to the bathroom without looking suspicious (which shouldn't be difficult. Humans go to the bathroom all the time. There was nothing inherently suspicious about a human going to the bathroom. I hoped there was nothing inherently suspicious about me going to the bathroom). I swiped my hard currency card on the reader, and Harls snorted (tagged [derisive]. I had to query my dictionary for "derisive" and, alright, I had apparently done something stupid during this exchange).
While he was making my drink, I looked around the bar. Humans are allowed to look at their surroundings without it being weird, most of the time. Most of the patrons were dressed in dark, masculine clothing, and many of their feed IDs were temporarily restricted or clearly tampered with. That should have set off an alarm in my head—and it did—but it also sent a sharp, electric thrill through me. I was not the only person here trying to be anonymous. If I did what I wanted to do—I would have no idea who I was doing that with. And neither would they.
I felt the urge to pace again, but stronger. I wanted to run—not away, just… run. The back of my neck was starting to sweat again, and my mouth felt unusually wet.
"Here." Harls pushed a smudged glass of off-white liquid towards me. I thanked him, and held it in my hand. I could pretend to take sips of this, although when I brought it to my mouth to do so, the ethanol fumes nearly made me cough. I didn't understand how humans could drink genuine poison like this on a regular basis.
With a drink in my hand, I looked approximately 28% more like someone who should be where I was. Scanning the room for an empty seat, I saw one in a corner and sat down (up to 35% more like someone who should be there). I programmed a quick, simple recording of the motion of my arm lifting the glass to my mouth and set it on a 3-minute recurring loop. Then I started to really look around the building. To my left was the entrance where I had come in and a seating area. There was also a table where a group of humans were playing a card game. In front of me was the bar. To my right was a dark hallway with a backlit sign reading "RESTROOMS" hanging crookedly above it. I wished I had my drones, then I wished I would have been able to use my drones without drawing suspicion.
In the first three minute period, nobody went down the hallway nor exited it. Thirty seconds later, a door in the hallway opened and a person walked out. Two minutes and 18 seconds after that, a man with an altered feed ID went down the hallway and opened that same door. One minute and 15 seconds later, he reemerged. Based on his clothing and demeanor, there was only a 26% chance he was an employee of the bar. That was likely the restroom, then. I waited another three minutes before placing my drink on the table and walking very, very normally down the hallway.
There was one unisex bathroom marked "For customer" and another door marked "Staff only". If my observations had been correct, the bathroom should be empty. I opened the door casually, the way I had seen other humans opening it, and stepped inside. The interior was… surprisingly clean, given the rest of the building. There were four individual stalls, but the one closest to the door had a green circle set into it. When I looked closer, I saw the word "OPEN" written on it. There was a wheel on the inside of the door that, when rotated, changed the color on the of the inset circle with a click to a red "OCCUPIED". None of the other stalls had this, and based on the media I had seen, there was a 68% chance that this was the correct stall for me to go into. So I did, locking the door behind me and changing the circle to "OCCUPIED".
As expected, there was a toilet set against the back wall, but on the divider to the stall next door was a hole. It was wide enough to fit my fist through, with room to spare. Did humans come that large? I hoped not. There was a soft plasticky lining around the hole that was starting to split in places. When I looked through it, I could see into the empty stall next to mine. The stall doors and dividers went nearly all the way to the floor, with approximately 10cm of clearance. If I knelt down, anyone coming in to the bathroom would be able to see that there was someone in this stall. Just in case they missed the "OCCUPIED" indicator.
I sank to my knees, inorganic toes tucked beneath my feet, and sat back on my heels. My internal temperature had risen by 0.4 degrees centigrade, and I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. My fingers clenched the fabric of my pants before unclenching. I made a note to check my human-imitative code for anxious fidgeting, but just as I set the reminder, I heard footsteps coming down the hall. My audio was still tuned to ignore the input of the thudding music.
Stay calm, I told myself. There is a 46% chance this human will not be interested in engaging in oral sex.
The door opened and the sound of the footsteps changed once they were on the tile of the restroom floor. Whoever walked in paused, likely noticing the indicator on the door and my position. I felt my respiration rate increase slightly, and the pumps that circulated my cooling fluid whirred softly as my inorganics increased circulation to compensate for my elevated temperature. The skin on the back of my neck was prickling—but not in a bad way. The skin between my legs was… the sensation is difficult to describe. Hot, but all of me was hot. Sensitive, but so was all of my skin. Maybe I was just hyper-aware of that area due to the implications of what I was trying to do.
The footsteps resumed as the person who had walked in made their decision. The footsteps were moving away from me. One of the furthest stall doors opened and shut. Something washed through me that was not quite relief and was not quite disappointment. I tuned the rest of my hearing down and slowly ran my thumb over the knuckles of my index finger. I shivered—I had not turned my sensitivity up, but I was experiencing the touch as if I had. It was somewhere between pleasant and unnerving, and I traced each of my fingers like that until I was shaking.
The door to the restroom opened, and I nearly flinched. With my hearing tuned down, I hadn't heard… was this someone new coming in, or the original person leaving? I adjusted my audio levels and this was someone new, footsteps coming towards me, and—oh, shit, the stall door next to mine opening. Something strange and swoopy and tense was happening in my organics. I could see dark fabric through the hole. Then the person on the other side of the divider knocked against it three times. I knew from my media that this was a request and that I should knock back if I wanted to accept it.
I wanted to accept it.
I rapped my knuckles against the divider, three times, and the person on the other side started to fumble with their pants closure. As they did, I checked their feed ID. There was no name listed, but pronouns were stated as he/him. I could catch only pieces of the movement—flashes of tan-skinned hands, the dull reflection of light off a scratched and worn metal button, the soft sound of a zipper being undone, before—
This was not my first time seeing a human penis, and not even my first time seeing a human penis up close. But it was my first time seeing one in real life by choice. It was soft, both as in not erect and as in texture. The person's pelvis was covered in dark wiry hair that looked like it had been semi-maintained. The hem of his shirt hung just past his navel, and between that and the pants he had shoved down as little as possible, not much skin was showing. And that was all I could see of him. A person without a face, without a body, just a sex organ. And to him, I must have been just a mouth. Something in my core clenched at that thought.
Somewhere outside of my view, he spit into his hand and started stroking himself. It was fascinating to watch him getting hard in real time. It seemed so… inefficient. His fist was curled around his [Author's note: I have been advised that my repeated use of the word "penis" detracts from the eroticism of this retelling. I have updated my narrative to use words more frequently found in erotic writing. The original, unaltered file is still available in my archives.] cock, making rough movements until it was erect enough for him to guide it through the hole.
The pink head of it was centimeters from my face, and I could see clear liquid beading at the tip. Something in my organics squeezed, and before I could stop myself, I said out loud, "I've never done this before."
His cock twitched and he hissed out what sounded like a curse. Tone analysis suggested he found this statement arousing. Which was not my intention in saying it, but I was not upset about it. The purpose of this exercise was arousal, for both of us.
"'s not hard. Just don't use your teeth."
I had already pulled up examples of oral sex from my media, and took 2.3 seconds to review them. He was right. It wasn't hard, in concept. I stuck out my tongue and dragged it across the head. The bead of liquid was salty and bitter, and I wrinkled my nose, but the sensation of the skin was hot and velvety and I immediately liked that. The person groaned and pushed his hips closer against the divider. Okay. That was a good response. I opened my mouth and tucked my lips over my teeth, and I took the head of his cock into my mouth. It was heavy on my tongue, and I could taste more of the liquid leaking out of it. That was a little unpleasant, but the feeling of it was good. Really good.
I created some suction in my mouth while laving my tongue over the skin I could reach, and was rewarded with a punched-out groan that made me want some type of tactile input somewhere (although I couldn't have said what type or where). I liked the sound, and I wanted to do something that would make him repeat it. In one example video I had playing in the background, a man was taking the full length of a dick down his throat and gagging. I knew that I could suppress my gag reflex easily, but that entire endeavor seemed like a more advanced move than I was ready for. Instead, I pulled back, letting the head slip out from between my lips, and started mouthing along the shaft.
"Fuck," the person muttered under his breath, "you sure this is your first time?"
This was likely a rhetorical question, so instead of answering it, I ran my tongue along the prominent vein on the underside before wrapping my first two fingers and thumb around the base of his cock and pressed my tongue against his frenulum. The combination of his saliva and mine let my fingers glide over his skin as I wrapped my lips around the head again. I was bobbing shallowly, not ready to try taking all of him at once. Even through the partition, I could hear his elevated respiration rate. The movement, the way I was moving my head, the feeling of him in my mouth… it was making my thoughts start to soften around the edges. He was still leaking into my mouth, salty and bitter and slippery. My eyes had closed at some point even though my body was still moving, still sucking him off while I stroked him, and something about the darkness—the lack of visual input—made everything else feel heightened.
I was tonguing at his frenulum again, listening to the low noises it pulled out of him, when he said, "'m close."
Media comparisons and context clues suggested this meant "close to orgasm" and. Oh. I hadn't thought this far ahead. I knew that I didn't want to swallow it or I would have to empty my lungs later, which was a miserable experience. Was it rude to spit out someone's semen in this scenario? A media query for how this situation was usually resolved showed the oral sex giver would often either swallow or allow the other person to ejaculate on their face or breasts. I didn't want it on my face, and I had no breasts. I just had to hope that spitting it out was not an enormous social faux pas. My lips and fingers both tightened around him, in what I hoped was encouragement.
He let out a string of what were probably expletives, in a language I did not have a translation module for, and I could feel him twitching on my tongue just before—
The taste was—the texture was—bad. It was bad. Both things were bad. I fumbled through my sensory input controls until I was able to find taste and toggle it off. This did not help with the texture issue, but at least I only had one unpleasant thing to ignore instead of two. I kept my lips wrapped around him until he finished [Author's note: Apparently "ejaculating" is too clinical a descriptor.] cumming, then slowly pulled back until his softening cock slipped out of my mouth. His respiration rate was still elevated as he pulled back through the hole and started to re-dress himself. I was breathing through my nose, holding the cum in my mouth, wanting to spit it out but not wanting to be rude.
"Deity above, you swallowed that? First time, my ass." He laughed a little, slapped his hand lightly on the divider, and opened the door to the stall. "Enjoy your night, sweetheart."
I waited until the restroom door closed behind him before leaning over the toilet and spitting out the cum as quietly as I could. I knew the taste would still be there, but at least I could keep that suppressed. Then I leaned back against the tiled wall and shoved a hand between my legs. The pressure lit up nerves that Barish-Estranza had never intended for me to stimulate but had been too cheap to remove. The pleasure chemicals that had been flowing through me lazily now flooded my systems, and it was like being hit by a less-lethal projectile at high speed. I did not moan, mostly because I pressed my other hand against my mouth so hard I received a pressure warning. The back of my head was pressed against the wall, eyes squeezed shut as I ground my palm against my null plate. My hips were rolling into the touch as I replayed the sounds he had made, the soft velvety texture of his cock on my tongue, the way he spoke to me like—like I was—
My orgasm surprised me. It had never happened this fast before. It was often a long, drawn-out fight between my mind and my body, and I usually had a lot more build-up. More warning. Which is why I couldn't completely stifle the whining sound that left my throat as my hips stuttered against my hand. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—
It felt like breaking, like reaching a point of non-functionality that preluded a shutdown, except that it felt good. My performance reliability shot up, then dipped precipitously before creeping slowly back up towards baseline as I shivered against the wall. My eyes were still shut tight and my hand was still pressed over my mouth, further stifling my ragged breaths. I wasn't getting any low oxygen alerts, but I wondered if that was part of the reason why my head was spinning and my chest felt tight. When pulling my hand out from between my legs caused it to brush against my null, my entire body jerked and I managed to cut off what might have been a sob.
I wanted more, in a way that I could not have. There was an ache deep in my core, an emptiness that wanted filling. Of course, there was nothing there to be filled, but organic tissue is sometimes stupid like that. I wanted to touch myself again, but I was a little concerned that the overstimulation might force me into an actual shutdown and I was not in the ideal location for that to occur.
As some of the post-orgasm warmth and haziness ebbed away, I was becoming more aware of the residual texture of semen in my mouth. In media I had watched, people could stay in this position and service multiple other humans over the course of the video, but I was ready to be done. I wanted to return to my rented room and, in order of urgency: 1. Rinse my mouth, 2. Take a shower, 3. Analyze my performance and assemble a report to provide to Perihelion. Because my knees and lower legs are inorganic, there was no stiffness when I stood up. I unlatched the stall door and, running my ActHuman.code, very casually left the building.
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This was an intriguing report. I have taken the liberty of adding some editorial notes. Were you satisfied with the experience?
Yes. And I had seen and marked its notes and recommendations, although I wasn't sure whether I would be permanently including them in the record. But I have identified several areas which could be improved upon for the next time. I dropped the "glory_hole_optimization.txt" file into our shared feed space, and Perihelion looked through it.
The residual taste and texture of semen dissuaded you from continuing to perform oral sex that night.
Yes. I was hoping you could synthesize a mouthwash that would be compatible with my oral tissue. For next time.
There was a prickle of something through the feed. I will need to take samples of your oral tissue. For optimization of the solution.
Of course. I had expected this, and was prepared to contribute… maybe not as much tissue as Perihelion wanted, but a reasonable amount.
A slight pause, nearly 0.7 seconds long, before Perihelion said, I would like to accompany you next time.
Query: purpose?
Personal curiosity.
I couldn't argue with that. Personal curiosity was the reason I had gone to the bar in the first place. I sent it an affirmative.
There is another location on-station that I have flagged as containing a glory hole. What are you doing tomorrow night?
I shrugged. Can you synthesize the mouthwash in that time frame?
It did the feed equivalent of a snort. Even if I lost 80% of my processing power, it would take me no more than an hour to synthesize. All I need is your tissue.
There was an implication behind its words that I picked up on immediately. I can head to Medical right now, if you are not busy.
I am always busy. I'll start warming the platform for you.