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Seth blinked and got up from the table. He stood behind his mother as she hunched over the sink. "Mum." No answer. "Mum. I'm going to the beach." She sighed and wiped her forehead with a soapy hand. "Take Glen with you." His turn for silence. "Or take one of…
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The question isn't whether we will survive-/
like rats, we are supremely adaptive-//
but whether we should survive.
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