The Pale Dance
Chapter One The habitat hummed with the low, tidal groan of the undersea cluster, a sound that vibrated in the teeth of every resident from the upper loom rooms to the deepest pressure locks. In the ministry of memory, where the air tasted of recycled ozone and stale paper, the clerks moved in slow, rhythmic queues, their fingers stained with the ink of a hundred years of forgotten deeds....
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