The Long Cold Road
The pipe leaked again. It always leaked. I patched it with the same piece of scrap metal I had been using for three years, and I knew it would leak again tomorrow. That was the way of things in Deepwell Chicago Sector Three. I am Jack Morrisey, forty-five years old, pipe repairman, and I have never once in my life thought about the sun. The deep cities are five hundred meters beneath the frozen...
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