I hear noises in the night. Long, wistful digital tones, coming low across the water from the great offshore rigs.
They talk to each other.
No one around here really knows what happens on the rigs. Once a man got lost at sea in a storm. They found his boat in splinters near one of the massive supports, and the people who own the rigs had to come deliver the news to his family. They were quiet and seemed angry even when they were saying comforting words.
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