The footage was grainy, the colors bled at the edges like a bruised sunset. It started with a static-heavy shot of the Treedome’s interior. But something was wrong. The grass wasn't green; it was a sickly, pale yellow. The air inside the dome looked thick, almost like smoke.
On the screen, the grainy footage shifted. It was no longer the Treedome. It was the Chum Bucket. The camera angle was from the very corner of the ceiling, looking down at Plankton and Karen. They watched themselves on the screen, watching the screen. Sandy Cheeks.mp4
"Us," Karen replied, her voice dropping an octave into a mechanical drone. The footage was grainy, the colors bled at
Plankton froze. "How... how does she know I’m watching? This is a recording!" The grass wasn't green; it was a sickly, pale yellow
"I can't, Sheldon. The system is locked. It’s... it’s downloading." "Downloading what?"
Plankton leaned in, his tiny hands gripping the edge of the desk. "What is this? Some kind of experimental log?"