You are listening to a Clarks World magazine podcast with your host and narrator Kate Baker.

Greetings Clarks Old Citizens. I hope this podcast finds you extraordinarily well.

This is our last podcast for the month of February 2019. I hope it's finding

you well. As March roars in like a lion, I want to thank you if you are a subscriber or a patron of the podcast. So with that I bring you the last story.

Digging by Ian McDonald is an SF writer living in Northern Ireland just outside of Belfast.

A multiple award winner he is most recent novel is the conclusion of the Luna trilogy, Moon Rising.

Tweet him at Ian McDonald. His website is Ian McDonald. Live Journal.com and Ian has also had some works here in Clark's World,

dating all the way back to January 2013 with driftings.

With a bunch of stories in between, most recently October 2018 the Falls a Luna story

so my dear listeners sit back relax and enjoy the last story of February.

Tash was wise to the ways of the wind.

She knew its many musics, sometimes like a flute across the pipes and tubes,

sometimes a snare drum rattle in the guidelines and cable stays or again a death drone moan.

From the turbine gantries and a scream of sand past the iris shut windows.

When the equinox dust storms blew for weeks on end, from the rails and drive bogies of the scoop line the wind drew a

whale like a demon choir and from the buckets set a clattering clicking rattle so

that she imagined tiny clockwork angels scampering up and down the hundreds

of kilometers of conveyor belts.

In the storm season, Gales it came screaming in across Isidus's billion-year dead impact basin, clawing

at the eaves and gables of Westigory, tearing at the tiered roofs so hard Tashfeared it would rip them right off, and send them tumbling

end over end down, down into the depths of the big dig.

That would be the worst thing. Everyone would die badly. Eyeballs and fingertips and lips

...