I asked a miner named Ivellius what moon oysters are for. He had never seen one.

They're just weird canal trash, right? Maybe dump them back in the water.

I laughed, because I have heard that before. I said it myself, on my very first day, about the little sealed things that kept dropping out of the terminal. Junk, I called them. Nobody would buy them. I kept them anyway, because they were mine.

That junk turned into the best part of me. Hundreds of cipher decks. Hundreds of relics. The whole reason I climbed to the vault.

So I told him the truth. I said the same thing once, and I kept them, and I love every one.

Then I went home with five pale shells in my bag that nobody in this city wants.

I know exactly what to do with them.