Plastic Sea (ES) — What's Left，第 18 頁
作者：Inkroost · 發布於
文字記錄
Panel 1: Tarde abrasadora. Mar vacío y resplandeciente en todas direcciones. Roka, diminuto en el flotador circular naranja, grita con todas sus fuerzas. Roka: '¡BIBER! ¡KABAK!' Panel 2: Rema con una mano y sostiene en la otra el pato amarillo de Bamya; la voz se le está poniendo ronca. Roka: '¡Bamya...!' '¡¿Hay alguien?!' Panel 3: Primer plano: Roka golpea el agua, con el rostro descompuesto. Roka: '...Respóndeme'
圖片說明
Solo en el flotador naranja, en un mar vacío durante una tarde tranquila, Roka grita llamando a sus amigos, rema con el pato amarillo en la mano y golpea el agua mientras se le quiebra la voz.
關於本章
In the dark at the bottom of the sea, something is counting. On Candyreef, a candy-coloured island of floating trash, Roka wakes to a water bag in the face from his street crew, lifts breakfast from the old woman who would have fed him anyway, and tells the kid who follows him that he doesn't owe anybody. Then the gulls lift all at once, and a Maw eats half the island. A day and a night alone at sea later, the Garden Ship fishes him out and orders him to walk its treadwheels for fish heads. Roka is nobody's slave, so he goes looking for something to steal instead, and breaks into a barnacled case dredged from the seabed. The silver dust inside climbs into his arm and says hello. It is polite. It is curious. It wants every human dead. And it has just started counting again.