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Female
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17/06/1990
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The Palette of SoulsParis in the 1890s was a fever dream of absinthe, velvet, and dying empires. Julian was a painter who didn't use pigments; he used empathy. He possessed a rare, synesthetic ability to perceive the emotional state of others as vibrant, swirling colors. A grieving widow was a deep, suffocating indigo; a corrupt politician was a sickly, iridescent yellow; a first love was a blinding, electric...0 Commentaires 0 Parts 0 Vue 0 AperçuConnectez-vous pour aimer, partager et commenter!
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The Cost of Staying Alive in a World That DrownedMutation One: The Gills The first thing Kael lost was the ability to speak. It happened in the chop shop on what used to be Oxford Street, forty meters below the surface, where the bio-mechanic named Rish operated out of the flooded basement of a department store. The mannequins still stood in the display windows, their plastic faces smiling at the murky water, their synthetic hair swaying in...0 Commentaires 0 Parts 3 Vue 0 Aperçu
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The Shipyard CodeI. The machine arrived on a Monday, wrapped in military canvas and stamped with three classification seals that meant different things to different people. To the shipyard foreman, it meant extra paperwork. To the military inspector, it meant a phone call to Washington. To me, it meant a puzzle. It was a German device, captured somewhere in North Africa, and it had arrived at the Philadelphia...0 Commentaires 0 Parts 3 Vue 0 Aperçu
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V10 TheroadaheadThe Road AheadAct IApril 1968. New York. 5th Avenue. The protest was supposed to be peaceful. Billy knows this because he helped organize it. He knows this because he told the crowd three times: "We go home together. Peacefully. Together." But the National Guard did not hear him, or did not care, or had been ordered not to care.Billy was twenty-five. He had returned from Vietnam seven months...0 Commentaires 0 Parts 3 Vue 0 Aperçu
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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 Commentaires 0 Parts 2 Vue 0 Aperçu
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The Golden ExchangeThe ticker tape never stopped talking. That was the first thing Vincent Moretti learned on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange: the machine had opinions, and they came in the form of punched paper ribbons that fell like confetti from the ceiling of a cathedral built for a new god. He was nineteen, Irish-Italian from Hester Street, with ink on his fingers and a photographic memory that made...0 Commentaires 0 Parts 3 Vue 0 Aperçu
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The Sanguine CovenantThe year was 1348, and the sky over Florence was the color of a bruised plum. The Black Death had turned the city into a charnel house, where the only sound was the rattling of carts and the prayers of the dying. In the shadow of the Duomo, Father Julian presided over the Order of the Crimson Veil, a secretive sect that claimed to possess the "Sanguine Covenant"—a ritual that could shield a...0 Commentaires 0 Parts 4 Vue 0 Aperçu
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The Lace and the LedgerThe gavel fell with a sound like a coffin lid closing. Nine years. Three thousand two hundred and eighty-seven days of legal briefs, depositions, sleeping on benches outside the Royal Courts of Justice, eating stale bread and cheese while wealthy men in silk wigs debated the technical specifications of a textile shuttle design that Elara Whitmore had created with grease-stained fingers and a...0 Commentaires 0 Parts 3 Vue 0 Aperçu
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The Used Writing MachineThe typewriter cost fifty dollars. I got it from Bill's Pawn on East Market Street, where everything from wedding rings to power tools goes when the people who owned them run out of luck. Bill is sixty years old and has seen every kind of desperation this side of the Ohio River. He looked at the typewriter, looked at me, and said, "You sure about this, Frank? It's old, but it works. Electric...0 Commentaires 0 Parts 3 Vue 0 Aperçu
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The Kneeling ManI Walter Price knelt every day at three in the afternoon. It didn't matter if it was raining. It didn't matter if he had work. It didn't matter that the mine had closed and the company store had shut down and his wife had taken the girl and left three months ago and he hadn't seen her since. At three, he knelt. The grave was small. A field stone with "TIMOTHY J. PRICE 1998-2012" carved into it...0 Commentaires 0 Parts 14 Vue 0 Aperçu
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The Flat Weight - Variant 5: The Machine That Didnt Break (Psychological Thriller)The Flat Weight - Variant 5: The Machine That Didnt Break Style: Psychological Thriller ACT I The bike works. It just works. That's what I tell myself every time I get on it. Every time I push off from the driveway and feel the gears shift and the chain run and the tires roll, I tell myself: the bike works. It just works. And I say it like a prayer, or a mantra, or the kind of thing you repeat...0 Commentaires 0 Parts 6 Vue 0 Aperçu
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The Patient from BelowPart I: The Lock Henri Leclerc was thirty-three years old, the youngest mathematics professor at the Ecole Normale Superieure in Paris, and in the spring of 1893 he was on the verge of a discovery that would have changed the course of mathematics. He had been working on hypergeometric functions—specifically, on a class of functions that extended the concept of infinity to higher dimensions. In...0 Commentaires 0 Parts 4 Vue 0 Aperçu
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