The Glass Museum
Captain Alistair Thornwood opened the shutter of his viewport and beheld the corpse of a world. Black rock, still rippled from the lava that had once flowed across its surface like blood from an opened vein. White ice, where oceans had boiled away and refrozen in the long cold that followed. The Earth was a marble of ash and snow, beautiful in the way a shroud is beautiful. Twenty-seven years...
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