The-Memory-Thief-of-New-Babel
The Silent Harvest The rain never stops here. It's not even really rain — not water, at least not in any sense that would make sense to someone who'd grown up outside the arcologies. It's acid, mostly, with a heavy dose of industrial particulates and the occasional trace of neurotoxin that the atmospheric processors miss. It falls in sheets that shimmer with the reflected light of the neon...
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