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  • The Vertigo of Infinite Access
    In the beginning there was index.html. Julian Cross, age thirty-four, founder and CEO of PortalScope Inc., typed the final line at 3:47 AM on a Tuesday in February 1999, in a rented office above a dry cleaner on Emerson Street in Palo Alto, and watched the cursor blink. The office smelled of burnt coffee, toner, and the particular sourness of unwashed shirts. The dry cleaner downstairs released...
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  • THE MIRROR IN THE BASEMENT
    ACT I: THE WINDOWLESS ROOM Lord Alistair Finch-Worthingham inherited Blackwood Park on a Tuesday in November, which seemed appropriate: Tuesdays were the kind of days on which serious things happened—inheritances, deaths, the slow realization that one's life has been a performance for an audience that stopped watching years ago. The house was exactly as one might expect a country house named...
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  • The Last Sunday Call
    Nina had been folding a fitted sheet when the phone rang. It was Sunday, the only morning she could pretend the world was not a machine designed to grind people into dust. The fitted sheet, a faded blue thing from the discount bin at work, refused to become a rectangle. She had been wresting with it for ten minutes, the elastic corners snapping back at her hands like small insults, and the...
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  • The-Last-Shoe
    The Last Shoe Act I The warehouse at the rear of Winslow and Sons possessed a darkness that no gaslight could thoroughly penetrate. Edwin Crawford knew this darkness well, having spent three years of his twenty-six years mapping its contours by feel and memory. He had come down to retrieve ledgers from a corner stack of crates, but the lantern in his hand caught upon something that arrested him...
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  • The Devil's Briefing
    The envelope was yellow, which in the government world meant confidential but not classified. The kind of envelope that sat in the in-box of someone who had died before they got to it. Frank Decker had been cleaning out Richard Moss's desk for three days, sorting through the personal effects of his former boss—the man who had been his mentor, his protector, and, in the last six months before...
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  • The Swamp Station
    The water in the Atchafalaya basin doesn't so much flow as think, slowly, like a mind that's been turned inside out and can't figure out which way is up. Wilbur Durand knew this, because he'd spent the first twenty-four years of his life floating through it in his grandfather's skiff, which was less a boat than a philosophical statement about the relationship between wood and water, with the...
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  • Part One

    The brake job on the Ford F-150 took eighty dollars. Jimmy charged Danny sixty because Danny had bought him a beer last month and because Danny's dog Sergeant—that dachshund with the long body and the short legs—had once sat on Jimmy's lap while Jimmy ate a sandwich and hadn't tried to eat it. Danny's truck sat on the lift in Jimmy's garage in Trenton, New Jersey, and Jimmy was underneath it...
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  • The Species Divide
    (Variant 13 - Grand Narrative) The Great Divergence did not happen with a bang, but with a signature. When the first generation of "Aeterns" emerged from the Suture clinics, they were viewed as a medical miracle. But within three generations, the miracle became a wall. The Aeterns did not just live longer; they thought differently. Their perception of time expanded, their emotional responses...
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  • Underwood Standard No. 5
    I was manufactured in 1907 at the Underwood Typewriter Company factory in Hartford, Connecticut. My serial number was 2238471. I weighed thirty-two pounds and I was painted black, the standard color for standard machines, and when I was loaded onto a railroad car bound for New York City I did not know where I was going or whose fingers would press my keys or what stories I would tell....
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  • The Dinner That Never Happened
    The meal existed in three states simultaneously, and Helen was the only person who knew all three. She stood in her apartment kitchen on the Upper West Side, a woman of forty-three who had once been a chef at a three-Michelin-star restaurant in Paris and was now a private caterer who made dinner for people she would never meet. Her clients were wealthy, anonymous, and demanding. They wanted...
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  • # The Last Observatory
    The signal arrived on a Tuesday in October, 1897, at precisely four minutes past eleven in the evening, when the Greenwich dome was open and the great refracting telescope stood aligned with the constellation of Centaurus. Edgar Wentworth was alone in the dome, as he usually was after nine o'clock, calibrating the instrument's tracking mechanism and drinking tea from a tin cup that had long...
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  • The Canvas of Extinction
    (V-07: Gothic Style) The atelier of Julian Thorne was a sanctuary of beautiful horrors. In the dim light of a dozen flickering candles, he worked on his magnum opus—a painting that captured the exact moment a soul leaves the body. He was obsessed with the "Aesthetics of the End," believing that true beauty could only be found in the instant of total destruction. One night, a stranger arrived at...
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