The Company -v5.12.0 Public- -westane- -

Westane grabbed his kit. Sealed bag, chemical neutralizer, portable incinerator. Routine meant someone had died where they shouldn’t have. Not in a medbay. Not in a cryo-pod. Somewhere messy. Somewhere private .

Westane wiped his palm on his jumpsuit and pressed it to the reader. The screen blinked green. The Company -v5.12.0 Public- -Westane-

He’d seen the version number before. Everyone had. It was stamped on ration packs, loading bay doors, the inside of his own eyelids after a 20-hour shift. Version 5.12.0 Public. The Company’s public-facing operating charter, safety protocols, and employment nexus. Clean, efficient, soulless. Westane grabbed his kit

”In the event of biological integration, no separation between employee and employer shall be recognized.” Westane grabbed his kit. Sealed bag

He looked.