The Distant Wound
The light in the sub-basement did not come from the sun, but from the sodium lamps that hummed with a frequency Thomas felt in his teeth. "Your output is down three percent, Vane," Manager Halloway said, his voice flat and dry as the dust that coated the filing cabinets. He stood over the reactor core, a man made of sharp angles and bad temper, his tie knotted so tight it seemed to cut off the...
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