The blue-white columns pierced the sky like the pillars of some impossible cathedral, stretching from the earth into infinity and from infinity down into the earth. I have never known night. I have never known stars. I have never known spring or autumn.
I was born at the end of the Braking Era, when the earth had just ceased its turning. My mother told me of the last sunset our family witnessed—the sun descending so slowly it seemed to halt upon the horizon, lingering for three days and three nights before vanishing. And in that prolonged twilight, I drew my first breath. The engines—twelve thousand of them, scattered across the American and...
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