The Golden Suspect
I have weighed the air in the nacelle and found it heavier than the sea outside. The sleet hit the glass in sharp, horizontal streaks, blurring the view of the turbine blades turning in the gray void. I am Filomena Henriques, the airlock maintenance chief, and I am twelve years old, which is a weight I carry in my shoulders. My hands were stained with grease, the black oil seeping into the...
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