The Broadcast from Luna
The sky over New York in the autumn of 1925 was the colour of old brass, and the jazz bands of Harlem played through the nights as though the world might end at dawn. It did not end at dawn. It arrived at dusk, in the form of a ring that hung above the Pacific like a halo forged by hands too vast to comprehend. Arthur Winslow stood on the steps of the Museum of Natural History in Manhattan and...
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