Transmission to Tera

The shuttle, shaped like a Ferris wheel and operated like a zip line, came to rest in the satellite bay as it did every day-interval. Guy Heller got off with the rest, the same workers he had commuted with for years. They traded the same remarks, made the same observations on their way up the terminal: yes, it was still considered Monday on the anachronistic calendar; everyone was still addicted to caffeine and some to alcohol; outer space was still remarkably big.

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