@sccylla location: scalpel’s station. time: week one.
something seizes in odysseus at the sight of the station -- scalpel, displayed as if they are an inevitable part of this world. something to accept, something to giggle at. people leave the demonstration with a pair of mismatched eyes or a sprinkle of freckles where none existed before, and odysseus cannot help but think how monumentally stupid it all is. he wants to shake them all; he wants to drag every quorum member here and give them a lecture on everything not mentioned by the scalpel team -- that forgotten narrative that holds more truth than... this.
instead, he stands with the rest of the small crowd, breath in and breath out.
“scylla,” he announces the name, quick and clean. they stand on opposite sides of the table. they know this about one another. “should i congratulate you on your new employers?”
