## The Static Bloom The dust tasted like iron and regret. Elias scraped a finger across the console, leaving a smear on the unresponsive glass. Three weeks since reactivation of Kepler-186f Station, three weeks of nothing but flickering lights and…
## The Static Bloom The dust motes danced in the single shaft of sunlight slicing through the greenhouse glass. Old Man Tiber, they called him, though nobody’d seen him truly *old*, just…worn. He adjusted the humidity gauge, his knuckles bone-white…
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…