Pools of oily liquids punctuated with foamy loaves of fungus dotted the pea gravel. A corpse yellow shore clutched a murky sea of sludge. Two Androids standing on stark rock outcroppings surveyed the wreckage once know as Fogo Island.

“Welcome to Olde Earth, doll face, isn’t it grand!” Mills exclaimed.

Twirling, the powerfully built Android smiled at his girlfriend. Acrid sea breezes wafted off the stifled water licking at their faces. Dora turned. Suddenly her new life melted away and she was back swabbing decks on the Martian barges. Instinctively, the renowned synth-psychologist analyzed the fluorocarbons and radiation levels. She calculated the grey hours to sanitize one square meter of surface with a solar canon factoring in air quality, temperature, optional peroxide cleanser and—

“Dora, sweetie peach,” Mills said more quietly.

With a nervous giggle, he dropped his outstretched arms. Mills considered how much he might have screwed up his romantic gesture. He cross-referenced his research on ancient courtship customs. Close to shore, a curious cat whale poked its whispers up tasting the air. Shaking her head, Dora came back to herself. Mills headed towards their rental hover ship.

“Last one in is a rotten egg!” Dora shouted.

Running and stripping, Dora negotiated the craggy landscape. Nimble as a deer, she squealed laughter. Confusion breaking into joy, Mills chased after her. Bottom up, he slipped into an oil pool. Dora helped him up a little and then pushed him back. Mills caught Dora’s heel. Scrambling towards the water, the Androids wrestled among the toxic mushrooms. With a back flip, the cat whale swam away.