The Distant Metropolis
Who pays the price of the ink when the paper refuses to dry? The rain in the processing ring did not fall so much as it leaked, finding the hairline fractures in the hull plating with the patience of a debt collector. Folake Owusu stood before the hydroponic tray of struggling greens, his fingers hovering over the leaves that had turned a sickly, bruised purple, the oxygen subscription for his...
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