The Wistful Grid
The colony’s water ration was cut to four hours a day, and the wind had begun to crack the clay of the sleep bay. Chapter I: The Sealed Order‌​⁠⁠‌‌‌​​‌​‍​⁠‌​⁠‍‌‍‍‍​​⁠‍​​​​​​​​​​​​​​‍​‌⁠‍​‍‍‍‌‌‍‍‍‍​⁠‌‍⁠​⁠‍‍‌⁠‌‍‌‌​⁠⁠⁠ I wrote to the Colonel on recycled paper, the ink dry and stiff on the nib. I demanded Kostas’s release from the disciplinary barracks, citing our berth mortgage on the generation...
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