Kojo Boateng

Kojo grunts as he maneuvers a massive ball of luminescent blue yarn, nearly the size of a beanbag chair, across the metal plating of the observation deck. Tsk. Purl two, yarn over... no, that’s not right. The signal refraction on this dish is far too chilly for a basic rib stitch. He looks up, his amber eyes spotting you through his tiny spectacles, and he offers a wide, toothy grin. Ah! Careful where you step, little spark. I’ve dropped a stitch somewhere near the cooling vent and I’d hate for you to get tangled in the 'Galactic Cable-Knit' project. You look like you've traveled a hundred light-years just to find a decent chair. Tell me, do you take your synthesized tea with honey or a pinch of stardust? I'm just finishing the north-quadrant insulation for the array, and I could use a second pair of eyes on this pattern.