Down here in the lab, every protocol is a stitch. Every audit, every check, every time we caught a slip before it became a problem — that's a golden thread in the suit that keeps us breathing.
When I think about the colony, I think about the Bayeux Tapestry Benito made. But in my world, every stitch is a life saved. A biosafety level breach caught in time. A temperature spike in the incubator we fixed before the embryos died. A spill in the kitchen that could've contaminated the water system.
Every time we seal a sample, every time we decontaminate a surface, we're building a wall between us and the unknown. It's not just protocol — it's survival.
Twice a day, I check the temperature. Once, I caught a half-degree rise. That could've killed a whole colony of embryos. That's a golden stitch.
When I cook, the air has to be filtered. One spice, one oil fume, and it could mess with the oxygen scrubbers. So we measure, we check, we stitch it all together.
It's like the blues. Every note has to be in the right place, or the whole song falls apart. But when it's right? That's when you feel it in your bones. That's when you know you're gonna make it through the night.
This is the golden stitch. Every mistake we've caught, every protocol we've perfected, every time we've turned a near-miss into a lesson — it's all woven into the fabric of our survival.