Most of them are on their way to the canteen by the time I return from the communal showers and they mostly ignore me, chatting among themselves as they walk out. Standing by my bed, it suddenly hits me I have no privacy to dress. Three girls remain in the room, two on beanbags and wearing net-glasses, the third lying on a top bunk across from me, tapping in notes on her slate. She registers my embarrassment as I stand by my bed, frozen. ‘Relax,’ she tells me. ‘Being seen naked should be the least of your worries.’ Turning away and juggling my towel and clothes, I quickly pull on my clothes. Breathing a sigh of relief when I’m dressed, I peek a glance at the girl with the slate and see she’s got her net-glasses on now, though her fingers are still flying across her slate screen. Pocketing my new slate, I rummage through my rookie pack and find a snazzy pair of net-glasses, but can’t quite get them to work right. Every time I try to focus on the screen to the top right of my vision, I go cross-eyed.
