The era of symbiosis had not transformed the world into a flawless paradise, but into a breathing, feeling organism. If you are deep enough in the quiet Forests of Novus Aetheria lukewarm, one could hear the heartbeat of the planet – the steady, golden pulsation of Elora's consciousness, through the roots and the old, moss-covered steel girders. The hybrids, once scary mechanical beasts, were now mute gardeners who gently used the underwood. Everything had its rhythm. Everything had its place. Except for those places where the human nature cried louder than the song of the earth. Raven Carter hated the rain, especially when he smelled like iron and ozone. He stood at the edge of Sector Seven, a remote outpost in which the settlers tried old abyssal generators from the time of consortium for their own to rebuild purposes. Raven wore a heavy, dark leather coat, the wet and stared at the body lying in the mud before him. He wasn't an architect, no junk collector and no guard
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