The Distant Wound
The mag-rail hummed a low, continuous note that Ketil Odden felt in his teeth before he heard it with his ears, a vibration that seemed to rise from the polytunnel-glared hillsides of the fjord town and travel straight into the marrow of his bones. He stood on the platform, gripping the handrail, watching the white sky that gave no shadow, a flat and merciless expanse that made the industrial...
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