For several days he went about his charge with disgust, trying everything he could to avoid the stench of rotting vegetation and of human feces, which was overpowering even as it all burned under the plasma from his beamer.
[…] the whole bar was a fierce collective roar, and he edged and smiled politely through it like a sober late arrival at a wild party.
[…] it wasn't a hard winter. Only a couple of blizzards and snirt and snuss storms.
This pattern can be explained by seasonal differences in the strength of microstratification at the surface of the lake.
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