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Micro story, mh, hoardings 

Meanwhile, the Body in the terraforming continues to falter, unable to stave off all of the psychic, emotional wounds while being wracked by illness.

The Writer, running the graveyard shift, authors us all into an ugly account. The Analyst weighs the options and, recognising the rest of the Crew are exhausted and shaken, gives the order for chemical rest. At least the Collective Crew agree on this: there are lessons, and this too shall be navigated, no life lost.

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