The Golden Cellar
The glow was wrong, Elias thought, pressing his thumb into the soft, pulsing mass of the municipal compost, feeling the heat radiate against the cold steel of the inspection tongs. It should have been a dull, anaerobic brown, the color of wet newspaper and decay, but this batch, processed from the industrial feedstock introduced in the third quarter, shimmered with a faint, bioluminescent pulse...
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