Standing outside the 3RONER Museum out here in the Backside (really, the only stable stretch of land in the southern hemisphere of Wrom). Today is the opening of a new exhibit; it's the newest collection of small insects recovered from the first discovered planet this side of K213. These little critters have been dubbed the "flame flies" not only because of their light-emitting-abilities like fireflies, but also because of the ever-present intense light that is their bodies. Light with an exoskeleton and six legs and veiny wings and antennae. Funny concept that!
I thought I'd give it a shot, seeing as how I've got a couple phospho-hours to spare. Maybe it'll do me some good just to get out of that dump that I call "work". Actually, it's creating forms.
Even now in the 38th century, paper is still hard to come by. Comp screens or mental-forms aren't as reliable as everyone takes them to be; it's still best to get it in writing. So I and my mechanical buddies make paper. Another thankless job, but one I volunteered to do.
It was that or serve as the curator for this very museum. I can't stand all them frozen creatures just staring at me behind those electric fields. Maybe I'd feel better if they were in those old-timey cages that used to be so popular 18 centuries ago. But, there it is. I'm off work, and waiting in line to get my pass. Temporary skin-badges---only a slight tingling. Hardly any blood loss too, assuming you still have blood.
Speaking of which, I'm part of the club. Haven't you heard? The blood club-we're the ones who refused, refuse, and will keep refusing to have our blood (all of it) replaced with BILL-ud. And yes, there IS a difference between the two. Blood will usually appear with even the most minor of cuts, like a dismemberment or a laser-wound. Thankfully, it'll begin to clot in a couple oldtimey hours, which ain't long enough for the police to come after you. BILL-ud, on the other hand, won't show itself until you're ready to die. When you chose to do so (after taking the gov't assigned drugs, filling out the forms I create for them to sully with words words words, or asking for help from one of our many switch-off-ers), the BILL-ud just leaks from your empty body and will be gleefully collected by, who else?, the BILL-ud collector.
But we of the blood club (and it's in lower case for a humble reason) keep our blood because...well, it's human. Yes, we were born this way, unless you were an unfortunate victim of BILL-ud transferral at birth (BABs). It's what sets us off from the OGs and the XWs (too complex to write their complete name, they're all just "aliens" to us). The blood is the life, as ancient as it sounds.
But now they're telling me that badges for the museum are unavailable. Just as well, I wouldn't wanna go to a museum that's got people running out the doors with their pink/violet BILL-ud spillin all over the place, gushing out in funny squirts with some sort of antiquated handgrenade-thing latchin onto them. Oh look, it's a Helion discordia!