Chapter 13 · free to read
They had one machine for telling people apart. It was the same machine that made them impossible to tell apart. Nobody had ever needed both facts on the same day.
I'd stood in front of that log for six months looking for the exit. She'd been alive eleven hours and she read the header.
Fourteen ports, strung along one lane like beads. And a lane is not a place. A lane is an arrow, and it is pointed at wherever the ships are going.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.