The Pale Path
Act I "You missed the calibration mark by four millimeters, Gerrit. Again." The automated voice of the foreman, a recorded clip played from a dusty speaker in the corner of the control room, cut through the hum of the filtration pumps. Gerrit Hoekstra, forty-two, did not look up from the primary gauge. His hands, wrapped in a rag stained with iron oxide, moved with the precise, mechanical...
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