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Female
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09/11/1970
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Actueel
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The Mirror at BlackthorneThe rain in London does not fall so much as it accumulates, layer by attenuated layer, until the city is nothing more than a watercolor painting left out in a storm. Reginald Ashworth had lived through eleven London rains by November 1891, but this one was different—not in its intensity or its duration, but in the particular way it blurred the boundaries between the east and the west, making...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 0 Views 0 voorbeeldPlease log in to like, share and comment!
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The Longevity JobThe Longevity Job The rain in LA doesn't wash anything clean. It just makes the grime slicker. I sat in my car outside the GeneTech tower on Flower Street and watched the droplets track down the windshield like tears on a face that's forgotten how to cry. Three hours. I'd been sitting there for three hours with a USB drive in my coat pocket and a decision that felt like a stone in my gut. Five...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 1 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The Green Phantom of Blackwood Road — V02Chemical Reaction Catalyst Model Harold Finch was not a man who believed in ghosts. He was a food critic for the Chicago Tribune, sixty-three years old, diabetic, and possessed of a palate so refined it could detect the difference between hand-cut and machine-diced shallots at twenty paces. Harold believed in salt-to-fat ratios, in the proper resting temperature of a ribeye, and in the...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 4 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The Last Line at the Last KitchenThe kitchen of the Royal Caledonian Hotel was dying. The great iron range still burned, but it burned with the heat of a thing that no longer believed in its own purpose. The copper pots still hung on their hooks, polished to a military shine, but their surfaces reflected a room that had begun to hollow out from the inside. The staff still came to work, but they came like animals returning to a...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 8 Views 0 voorbeeld
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Title: The Vitality LoanThe city of Oakhaven was a place of gilded decay. The nobility lived in sprawling estates of white marble, while the poor huddled in the "Sinks," where the air was thick with the smell of sulfur and desperation. Silas Thorne was the city's most successful moneylender, but he didn't deal in gold. Silas dealt in "Vitality." In a world where a mysterious wasting disease was killing the population,...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 1 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The Long Shadow of Silas CraneThe rain in Chicago didn't fall so much as it hung in the air, a cold gray curtain that turned the streetlights into smeared halos. Jack O'Malley stood behind the bar of The Rusty Nail, watching the last customer stumble out into Wacker Drive. His left knee was screaming—the kind of pain that meant the rain would be with them all night. He'd been a middleweight contender once. Forty-three...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 10 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The Zenith Sacrifice(Tragic Romance Style) Paris, 1890. The Belle Époque was a fever of gold, velvet, and light. Julian Thorne was the architect of that light. He had come to the city with a vision of a "City of Tomorrow," a sprawling metropolis of glass and electricity that would erase the darkness of the slums and the misery of the poor. He had built his empire on a foundation of foresight, anticipating every...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 6 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The Last Dawn of HumanityThe world was a tomb of ice. A thousand years of winter had buried the cities of the old world under glaciers of suffocating white. Humanity survived in the "Spires"—massive, geothermal underground cities where the air was recycled and the light was a dim, flickering amber. Kael was the finest energy engineer of the Seventh Spire. He lived in a world of pipes, turbines, and the constant,...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 5 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The Telegram from GenevaThe thing that destroyed the delicate equilibrium of Monsieur Delacroix's salon was not a grand gesture or a violent confrontation but a slip of paper, folded twice, delivered to the servants' entrance at a quarter past seven on a Tuesday evening in April. It was addressed to Julian Valois, and it contained seven words that would unravel eleven months of carefully constructed captivity in less...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 8 Views 0 voorbeeld
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ACT IDr. Julian Frost found his own biography in a Taiping archival document, written in 1854—twenty years before he was born. The discovery happened on a Tuesday, in the imperial archives of Tianjing, where Julian had spent the last three months cataloging rebel propaganda and religious texts for his forthcoming Oxford publication. He was thirty-two, a man of meticulous habits and rational...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 5 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The Patient from BelowDr. Evelyn Blackwood had been treating soldiers for fourteen months when she began to suspect that the war was happening inside their heads. The facility was a converted country estate outside New Carthage, all white corridors and padded rooms and the faint smell of carbolic and iodine. It housed the military's most difficult cases: men and women who had been brought back from the front lines...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 15 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The Patient from BelowChapter I: The Braking The letter arrived on a Friday, which in Vienna is the day when everyone pretends the weekend is going to save them from things they should have dealt with on Monday. It was typed on government stationery, in a font that was designed to look friendly but achieved only the effect of a smile that does not reach the eyes. The letter informed me that the Weiss Institute for...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 11 Views 0 voorbeeld
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