The Last Clean-Up
Frank Miller's prosthetic leg made a clicking sound every time he walked, a rhythmic mechanical noise that echoed through the corridors of the Space Station Janitor. It was 2157, and Frank was fifty-two years old, twice divorced, and done with bullshit. He was a cleaner on a near-Earth orbital station. His job was simple: scrape grease off bulkheads, unclog air recyclers, and pretend he didn't...
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