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The supply ship entered orbit, the first in years. We converged at the spaceport and waited for the most important delivery. The shuttle ramp swung down, and a man in overalls wheeled out a carton of paper. Page after page of truly random numbers, writ small. Another identical carton stayed behind, parsecs away in our capital. A literal one-time pad.
Finally we could send encrypted messages to our loved ones again. We hugged the delivery man and thanked him for his gift: privacy.
