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Chapter 70: We Feed Each Other, That’s What We Do
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Chapter 72: They Drew My Signature and Set It on Fire
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... ith these days. The problem was that it felt like it should be. Which was worse.
I sat at the provisional command shelter—a sloped wall of mosscrete shielding a table that no longer had legs—and shuffled through four different reports that each contradicted the last one. The southern perimeter node was either overheating, flickering, or offline entirely. Food stores were stable, unless you asked Bitterstack, in which case we were three days from ration collapse. And the latest trade prop ...
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