"who is it to go?" Two miners have pulled down their pants. An alarm takes off. Big tings, big tings I whisper. The embarrassment of sounding different subsides. I could develop a whisper that is gracious and articulate without raising concern about the letter s, I'll become the quiet guy, the chilled guy in the super boots at the factory. That'll do.

A drone that looks like the other drone is stopped by a miner and they chat:
"I want to birth something
into the block,
for rent
with an indifference towards death
and,
if it could demonstrate the language to us
face to face - you know
the laughter, the tears -
then
we could split the difference?

I couldn't tell who said it. The pants down miners on the inflating rim, they giggle. I giggle.