The Wistful Campus
The soil in Sector Four was not merely dead; it was actively hostile, a fine, grey powder that sifted through the mesh of your boots with the dry, indifferent sound of hourglass sand. You, Elias Thorne, thirty-four and junior agronomist at the Appalachian Foothills Research Station, knelt in the ash, pressing your gloved hand into the dust until the knuckles whitened, desperate to find the...
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