The air inside the dome hissed like a wounded animal, a low, metallic whine that set Lieutenant Mei’s teeth on edge. She adjusted her visor, the reinforced glass fogging slightly as her breath condensed. Outside, the sky of Eos-9 pulsed…
The rain in New Seattle tasted like static. It slicked the neon signs of Lower Meridian and drummed a persistent rhythm against the corrugated iron roofs. I gripped the damp edge of the Skywalk, my boots kicking up a spray…
The rain tasted like iron and ozone. It hammered against the corrugated steel roof of the Bio-Nexus, a persistent drumbeat accompanying the low thrum emanating from within. I watched it fall on the moss-slicked windows of Sector 7, my fingers…