On a mountain top above a ruined city, the sun sleeps peacefully. Those below have grown used to light that never moves, to lanterns that suck in light to render blessed shade. And each clock-measured morning, the citizens bless the sun, thankful, for they know that it could be so much worse...

Plutonium has been assigned.

(Worm crossover, for the Ash Beast challenge. Part of my Dispatch Work series, republished here.)