The Distant Ghost
The water outside the habitat is not empty; it is full of pressure. I have been a hydrologist for twelve years, mapping the salinity of the deep trenches beneath Melbourne’s submerged terrace rows, and I know the weight of a gallon of brine better than I know the weight of my own blood. My father, Gerald Pell, vanished three months ago, leaving behind only a crate stamped with the Guild’s...
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