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His back hurt as if it were slowly petrifying. They had passed the hundred-kilometer depth and were still pushing deeper, in a shallow dive that ran parallel to a bright swirling stream of organic particles.
My mother, my father. My grandparents. Most people know. I know, Irina thought, but it makes no difference. I am, like Natasha, an orphan now. My mother no longer knows who I am.
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