Artificial dreams weren't enough for Andy Brooks. He was determined to find them in reality! His wife's face was ugly; it was shallow and flat like a broken plate. From the balcony of their apartment in the Communal Worker's Center, Brooks turned his gaze and his hate away from her face. He looked at the moon. The disc of dreams was being blotted out by the sea; there were night shadows on the sea, fringed with the white curving foam of breaking tide.…
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