Beneath the Neon Sky
The rain in Seattle doesn't wash things clean. It just makes the grime slicker. I learned that working moonshifts at the spaceport, watching cargo haulers glide past under neon signs that flickered like dying stars. Then I got the glasses. Not regular glasses—sensor glasses, the kind deep-space navigators use to feel the world when they can't touch it. The kind that let someone else see through...
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