The Golden Mirror
The salt air in the observation blister tasted of iron and rot, a bureaucratic fact of the 2050s climate that no permit could waive. Outside the curved glass, the abandoned canal lay locked in willow, the water black and still under the first real dark of autumn. Inside, the hum of the greenhouse module was the only sound, a low-frequency vibration that rattled the teeth. Lester Fenwick wiped...
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