The Distant Summer
The door seals behind you with a pneumatic sigh, a sound that feels less like air being compressed and more like the final exhalation of a dying lung. You are alone in the control room, a space so small it feels less like a room and more like a ribcage, curved and dark, humming with the low-frequency vibration of the reactor core three decks below. The walls are lined with monitors, their glass...
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