The Golden Greenhouse
The hydraulic press of the gate shrieked, a sound like tearing metal that vibrated up through the soles of Elias Thorne’s boots and into the marrow of his shins, as he forced the rusted iron doors of the agricultural research station open against the weight of twenty years of neglect. He clutched the water-stamped requisition form in his left hand, the paper damp and soft against his palm,...
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