ROBERT REED CRAWLED UP on a massive pile of food scraps and yard trimmings and sat down. He buried his hands and rooted around a bit, grinning at his colleague, Kirk Steed. But instead of responding with a grimace of distaste, Steed merely smiled. “Nice,” he said. And it was nice. That’s because the pile wasn’t an oozing, reeking mass of disintegrating banana peels and moldy pasta from the back of the fridge. It was a dark, slightly moist pile o…
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