The light is already fading when her father arrives to take her home. The snow crunches under their boots, and they navigate the village road by the light of the incubation pods that line the road.
When her father was her age, these were cornfields, but nothing grows in the Earth anymore.
She runs up to one of the pods and rubs at the glass, curious about what’s inside. Her father takes her hand and tells her not to dawdle.
Most of these pods contain crops, but he isn’t ready for her to see the pod she was birthed in.

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