What the Void Remembers
I.The factory smelled the same as it always did: oil, metal, and something that might have been sweat or might have been the river.Artie Kowalski stood at his station on the assembly line, his hands covered in grease, his back aching in the same place it had been aching for twenty years. The parts came down the belt, he tightened the bolts, they moved on. This was his life. This had been his...
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