The Wistful Witness
Opal Aldridge knew the weight of the rope before he ever touched it. He remembered the smell of the cypress swamp, tea-colored and stagnant, where the High Court’s divers worked their shifts. He had been a maintenance diver, not a warden, but the sickness had taken his lungs before it took his name. Now, at thirty-two, he stood in the dry cold of the generation ship’s mid-voyage, a border...
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