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Weekly Contest #52
I was raised to believe that winning the Grand New World Lottery was the ultimate prize. To be the one person chosen out of billions to live in Colony, the city built on the moon, was an honor. Every citizen on Earth knew they would most likely die before they ever heard their name and lottery number broadcasted world-wide. Every year, the various media outlets would all echo the same phrase after the announcement: only the lucky, and the rest of us—the unlucky—would sit in our homes and watch that person leave this world for someplace that ...
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