The computer intoned, “Receiving an audio message from Harold.”
“Put it through to my suit comms.” She pulled at the burned-out component again, but it just wouldn’t budge.
“Message begins: ‘Listen Cecily, I know you’d rather not be bothered with any of this, but Vince was fighting in school again today, and Gynny won’t eat anything I make her. I need you to record a message for them. I’m at my wit’s end. That’s it.’ Message complete.”
She looked down at the butterscotch-tan planet rotating below her. “Fucking handle it, Harold, I’m a little busy right now.”