The Microscopic Covenant
The tunnel smelled of wet concrete and old rust. Ray Mercer had been walking these tunnels for eleven years, ever since the Sandia facility was decommissioned and they kept him on for routine maintenance. Eleven years of walking, checking valves, tightening bolts, filling out forms that went nowhere. He was forty-three and he knew exactly how the rest of his life would go. He would keep walking...
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