—A Lunar Ballad from the Year 2088
The year was 2088—
I stood in Beijing beneath neon skies,
Clutching a visa to the Moon,
Where dynasties now rise beyond the clouds.
China, bold architect of the stars,
Has carved empires on the Dark Side—
No longer myth or mystery,
But fields of fusion and factories of fire.
Helium-3, mined from silver dust,
Feeds reactors like...
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