The Distant Cartograph
The chalk dust weighed four pounds, a fine grey powder that settled into the creases of your knuckles and the pores of your skin, and you counted the hours until the discharge order arrived, twenty-two weeks left in the Northern Wastes, a stretch of barren tundra where the wind sounded like tearing canvas against the stone walls of the survey station. You were Elias Thorne, thirty-two years...
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