Plastic Sea — What's Left，第 7 页
作者：Inkroost · 发布于
文字记录
Panel 1: The crew scatters. Kabak and Biber run one way; Roka sprints across a bridge of lashed bottles, fish held high, grinning back. Roka: 'Morning, Granny!' Panel 2: Lahana jabs her spear at the air. Lahana: 'That's my breakfast!' Panel 3: Roka crouches on a bobbing yellow crate, waving the fish. Roka: 'Was.' 'It WAS your breakfast.'
图片说明
Roka runs off across a bottle bridge with the fish as Lahana jabs her spear, then taunts her from a floating crate.
关于本章
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.