## The Static Bloom The chipped Formica countertop felt cold under Aris Thorne’s elbows. He hadn’t slept properly in seventy-two hours, not since the first tremor hit the data stream. Not since the birds started *singing* in code. He squinted…
## Static Bloom The chipped Formica of the diner booth felt cold under Elias’s forearms. Rain hammered against the plasteel windows, blurring the neon glow of “Stella’s Fuel & Feed.” He hadn’t touched his synth-coffee. The scent of burnt protein…
## 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 Bloom Echo The chipped ceramic mug warmed Leo’s hands, the synth-coffee doing little for the chill that clung to him. Outside the observation dome, the *Artemis VI* shuddered. Not violently, but a low thrum that vibrated through bone.…
## The Echo Bloom The dust tasted like static. Eira spat, the grit clinging to the back of her throat even after she rinsed with recycled water. Kepler-186f wasn’t beautiful, not in the conventional sense. It *glowed*, sure. A sickly,…
## Hollow Bloom The dust tasted like static. Old metal, older regret. Jessa ran a gloved hand along the hull of the *Artemis*, the chipped paint flaking off like dead skin. The ship wasn’t derelict, not exactly. More… asleep. Decades…