The Golden Myth
The alarm in my wrist unit buzzed, a low, subsonic thrum that vibrated through the bone of my radius before it ever registered in my auditory cortex, and I woke with the taste of copper and static electricity on my tongue, the air in the dormitory thick with the scent of ozone and the faint, sweet rot of overripe fruit from the hydroponic trays in the adjacent sector. It was 0400 hours, the...
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