The Faded River
The pressure spike on Monitor Four was not a glitch, and you knew it before Sarah did. You stood in the center of the windowless control room, the air thick with the recycled chill of the server racks, your fingers hovering over the haptic interface that displayed the riverbed’s stress load in jagged red lines. The final grant for the Kestrel Dam project hinged on this single afternoon, on your...
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