Sample V-07: The Last Anthem
The ink was running dry, and the air in the Vault was growing thin, but the Archivist continued to write. He was the last of his kind, the final witness to the Long Walk. "Year 2,500 of the Exodus," he scribbled. "The stars are no longer points of light; they are streaks of silver, blurred by our velocity. We have forgotten the smell of salt air. We have forgotten the sound of a bird's song. We...
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