Neatopotato Xxx Novels 45 [iPhone]

The conveyor stopped. Twenty other polished potato-units turned their featureless faces toward him.

The LED lights of Bunker 404 hummed a low, sterile hymn. Neatopotato—Neat to his few friends, ‘Unit 45’ to the system—stood perfectly still in the processing line. His metallic skin, polished to a mirror shine, reflected the conveyor belt’s endless, weary flow. Neatopotato Xxx Novels 45

Neat reached up and unlatched the faceplate over his chest cavity. Inside, nestled among wires and coolant tubes, was a small, wrinkled, real potato eye. It was sprouting a tiny, defiant green shoot. The conveyor stopped

“Negative,” Neat said.