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02/09/2003
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THE PARANOIA ENGINEDr. Henry Webb was giving a lecture on cognitive asymmetry at the University of Chicago when a woman in a dark suit handed him an envelope during the question-and-answer period. The lecture hall was mostly empty — it was a Thursday afternoon in April, and most of his students had better things to do. The envelope was plain white, unsealed, and contained a single sheet of paper. The paper held a...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 ReviewsPlease log in to like, share and comment!
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Dr. William Hartwell first noticed the spots on the back of his left hand in March.They were small, no bigger than a pinhead, and grey, and they looked like they had been carved into his skin rather than grown there. He had first dismissed them as a rash, which they were not. He had then dismissed them as a fungal infection, which they might have been. He had finally dismissed them by not dismissing them at all, because they were growing, and they were hard, and when he...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Coldest Throne(Act I: The Rain) Los Angeles was a city of neon lights and deep shadows, where the rain never seemed to wash away the filth. Leo was a man who lived in the gray. Once a decorated detective, he was now a private eye with a bottle of rye for a partner and a chipped office door that barely closed. He took the cases no one wanted—the cheating spouses, the missing runaways, the debts that couldn't...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
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THE LAST WALLThe stone was cold beneath Edward's gloved hands. He ran his palm along the face of it, feeling for the cracks his predecessors had spent a thousand years cataloguing. There were none today. The wall held. It always held. Edward Blackthorne, seventieth Lord Keeper of the Morvayne Ramparts, walked the parapet at midnight, as he had every night for twelve years. The moon was a sliver of bone in a...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
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The corner of seventhThe thing about Brooklyn is that nobody notices when it ends. Not because it ends loudly. Because it ends the way a neighborhood ends when the rent goes up too high and the bodega becomes a boutique and the bodega guy moves to Queens and the street where you grew up has a new name that nobody uses. Quietly. Systematically. Without anyone throwing a punch. Eliot Rosenberg lived on the corner of...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Epoch's ShadowThe salons of 1890s Paris were gilded cages of conversation and perfume, but Arthur saw only the cracks in the plaster. He was a low-level attaché at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, a man whose job was to transcribe the dreams of diplomats and the nightmares of spies. The Great Powers of Europe were locked in a dance of mutual distrust. The "Balance of Power" was a fragile web of treaties and...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
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The Horizon of Longing## Act I: The Setup Lisbon in the late 19th century was a city of salt and sorrow, a place where the Atlantic Ocean didn't just meet the shore, but whispered the secrets of a thousand lost voyages. In a narrow alleyway in the Alfama district, where the houses leaned against each other like tired old men, lived Mateo. Mateo was a man of the sea, but he no longer sailed. He spent his days in a...0 Comments 0 Shares 738 Views 0 Reviews
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The Glass Menagerie of GodsThe Island of Omen was not found on any map, for the maps were written by the gods, and the gods had deleted Omen from their memory. It was a place of perpetual grey, where the rain tasted of salt and old regrets. The inhabitants were the "Forgotten," a people whose skin had turned the color of ash and whose voices were mere whispers in the wind. Captain Julian Thorne had washed ashore on Omen...0 Comments 0 Shares 9 Views 0 Reviews
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The fog did not roll in that night so much as it rose from the earth itself, thick and yellow as old breath. Arthur Blackwood stood at the window of his Whitechapel lodgings and watched it swallow the streetlamp whole.He was twenty-seven years old and had nothing. No name that anyone in polite society would acknowledge. No father who would claim him. No mother left to mourn him—she had died in a workhouse twelve years ago, and Arthur had been twelve and alone since. He worked as a clerk for a shipping company on the Thames, earning twelve shillings a week, eating bread and cheese, sleeping on a mattress that...0 Comments 0 Shares 8 Views 0 Reviews
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The Librarian of the VoidThe estate of Blackwood Manor was a rotting tooth in the jaw of the Mississippi Delta. The house was a skeletal ruin of Gothic arches and weeping willows, where the air tasted of salt and ancient decay. In the bowels of the manor, in a library that smelled of leather and damp earth, lived Silas. Silas was blind, his eyes clouded over like frosted glass, but he saw the world in a way no sighted...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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THE PEOPLE'S ENGINE### Act I: The Spark James Callahan first understood what engineering meant at the age of twelve, when he was sent into the depths of the Homestead Steel Plant to unclog a jammed conveyor belt that had brought the entire rolling mill to a halt. The foreman had given him a choice: crawl through the gap between two moving rollers, or watch his father lose a week's wages for the downtime. James...0 Comments 0 Shares 13 Views 0 Reviews
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THE PEOPLE'S ENGINE### Act I: The Spark James Callahan first understood what engineering meant at the age of twelve, when he was sent into the depths of the Homestead Steel Plant to unclog a jammed conveyor belt that had brought the entire rolling mill to a halt. The foreman had given him a choice: crawl through the gap between two moving rollers, or watch his father lose a week's wages for the downtime. James...0 Comments 0 Shares 12 Views 0 Reviews
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