Also, I liked that I got to hook up with a Twi’lek. Or, Ayala did, I guess.
Your writing makes me feel like it’s real, like I’m really there.”
“Thanks,” she said. “Now you’re making me think maybe I shouldn’t kill her.”
“I don’t mind if you kill her. Just make her die a hero.” “Oh, of course. She has to.
I was thinking I’d make it some Rogue One–style sacrifice for the common good. If that sounds okay?”
“Works for me,” I told her. “God, is the smell getting worse?” she asked.
“It’s not getting better,” I acknowledged. It smelled more like rotting garbage and unflushed toilets,
and as we passed an offshoot to the tunnel, Daisy said she wanted to turn around,
but in the distance ahead of us I could see a pinprick of gray light, and I wanted to see what was at the end.
As we walked, the sounds of the city grew slowly louder and the smell improved because we were close to open air.
The gray light grew larger until we reached the edge of the tunnel.
It was open and unfinished—the tiny trickle of water that was supposed to be diverted from the White River
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