_Well trained actors are taught the old tradition that the show must go on. But what's the point of it all when your audience is very, very dead?_ From somewhere there was a buzzing sound. It kept repeating. The gentle throb of it vibrated his eardrums; the vibrations registered somewhere at the bottom edges of his brain. Buzzzz. Insistently, like a wasp. Like a trapped wasp.... But there were no wasps in the streamlined metal shell of Vanguard-I.…
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