The Distant Machine
Act I "By order of the High Priest, the debt of the soul is to be paid in labor. The ledger is open. The ink is dry." Ketil Holm read the notice pinned to the door of the wool grading shed, the paper brittle as winter lichen, while the smell of wet lanolin and cold iron hung heavy in the air. He was thirty-two, his hands roughened by the shears and the counting of fleeces, and he wanted only to...
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