The Pale Banner
Act I "Pour it, Arie. Now. Before the light hits the glass." The voice was not his father’s, nor his master’s, but the cold, administrative drone of the power station that hummed beneath the floorboards of the custom house. Arie Zeeman stood in the cooling room, the air heavy with ozone and rotting fish, his hands trembling as he held the beaker over the vat. The contract for the new line,...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews