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The comments were ecstatic. “It’s like breathing a thunderstorm.” “My apartment now smells of petrichor and pine.” “My doctor said my blood oxygen is up 12%.”

Disappointed but unsurprised, Elias cracked his window an inch—the metal frame had been painted shut for a decade—and went to sleep.

For three days, Elias was a god of his own atmosphere. Monday was the Amazon canopy—humid, alive with phantom orchid scents. Tuesday, a high desert at dawn—sagebrush and cold dust. He slept better than he had in years. He stopped coughing. The permanent headache behind his left eye evaporated.