The Golden Downtown
Downriver, the salt pans mirror the low sun, reflecting the orbital loading docks where the air tastes of ozone and rust. In the union office at fifty-eight of the Ferry Slip, Joséphine Thibodeaux sits before the cold light of a grav-lamp, her hand steady as she opens the drawer. The gold-plated badge rests on the velvet, its surface now a matte, bruised black. II Two years prior, the badge was...
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