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Steadman

Struts and beams, seismographs and counterweights, a crowbar six miles long: at last, Steadman and Chandrababu stand atop the gantry and shake hands, and it’s done. They’ve stopped the Cascadia megathrust subduction event.

“Well I can tell you that personally, it’s been a rough journey,” confesses Steadman to the lady late night host. “The men and women at CasLab are my closest friends now–we’re all the support network any of us has got.”

“What about your family?” asks the lady.

“They live on the moon,” says Steadman.

It’s evident for the first time that in total silence, the cameras hum.

Ginger

Metal hums under her fingers as Ginger circles the room, touching out the lamps. Silence. Blue grows through the windows.

Little Crove’s conked out under the table with a bag of Oreos; she smiles, wipes crumbs from his mouth and gathers him to bed. Even asleep, his face is concerned.

The blue pales, grows harder. Ginger locks the shutters, but pauses at the last one. Steadman’s watching from the control tower. His goggle eyes are blank.

It’s still silent. White fire cracks ringward, outside; the water tanks flower steam. The house begins rising, steady as anything, straight up toward the moon.

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