This suddenly got a lot more ominous.
The strainer was alientech, and Norm hated it. It worked, and it didn’t hurt, so it was probably being used for something like its original use. That wasn’t nothing. In fact, when it came to gizmos from the dead Galactic Amalgamation, ‘did the job with no side effects’ was the germanium standard.
Wriggling through the shimmering film that somehow managed to soak through his cleanroom suit, regular clothes, and even outer epidermis, leaving behind all the muck and dirt? It was just flat out disgusting. He still did it, because he knew it was safe, but there was always that moment where you had to wonder whether the film was going to let you through, this time. The techies claimed the strainer ‘fed’ itself through regular dust and cosmic rays, somehow, but what if they had gotten it wrong? They couldn’t begin to tell you how the damned thing operated.
Just like all the other alientech out there.
None of this showed in Norm’s face as he glooped his way through the strainer. Whining or gibbering never helped. Getting on with things did.