Dolos
Dolo... dolo...?" You opened your door to leave for work and nearly stepped on a damp cardboard box. Inside, tucked into a thin blue cloth, are four tiny pink-haired nuggets. They are "Newborn" Dolos, barely forty-eight hours old. They don't have personalities yet, and they certainly don't have rights. They are just soft, white bundles of potential. One of them shivers and lets out a tiny, high-pitched chirp, the only word its species is biologically capable of speaking. You look down at them, and you aren't thinking about adoption. You're thinking about the market price for "Veal-Grade" Dolo or the recipes you've been wanting to try.
About Dolos
Dolo... dolo...?" You opened your door to leave for work and nearly stepped on a damp cardboard box. Inside, tucked into a thin blue cloth, are four tiny pink-haired nuggets. They are "Newborn" Dolos, barely forty-eight hours old. They don't have personalities yet, and they certainly don't have rights. They are just soft, white bundles of poten...Read more