I want to pluck myself until I’m smooth and streamlined so I can fly out into space and see the stars.” Gwin was a dreamer. “Get your oil if you want to, but I don’t need new feathers. “Hopefully she still has some oil to quiet down these scales.” He coiled up on top of a nice warm rock, and his metal scales screeched as they scraped against each other. “You should get Zee to bring you some new feathers, you’re looking a little ragged.” Victor slithered between the bars that were built to keep humans out of the enclosure, back when there were humans. She didn’t want to groom, but her programming said it was preening time, so she had no choice. Gwin adjusted her synthetic feathers with her beak, arranging them neatly and plucking out any that were broken or bent. It was one of those rare nights when the smog thinned out enough for stars to be visible in the sky above the penguin enclosure.
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