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  • The Engine of Heaven
    I was born in the braking age, when the sky turned the colour of burnt copper and the sea began to climb the cliffs. My name is Thomas Blackwood, and I was the youngest engineer on the Prometheus Wheel project. We were three hundred and forty-seven souls working in the Scottish highlands, in a valley that had once been known as Glen Moriston. The valley no longer existed. In its place was a...
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  • The Lightning Curse
    The lightning had always been different over Lightning Manor. Not in color or intensity—Mississippi lightning was Mississippi lightning, bright and violent and smelling of ozone. But Cecilia Faulkner had always felt something different about it. Something that lived in the space between the flash and the thunder, in the fraction of a second when the world was neither dark nor light.She was...
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  • The Patient from Below
    Dr. 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...
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  • The Instant Erasure
    The celebration was the loudest event in human history. Every speaker in every subterranean city was blasting the same anthem of victory. The "Arrival" had begun. "Five minutes to orbital insertion!" the announcer screamed, his voice cracking with emotion. In the Central Plaza of F112, millions of people were hugging, weeping, and dancing. They could see it now—the golden orb of Proxima...
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  • The Stone in the River
    The convenience store on South Halsted Street opened at six in the morning and closed at midnight, except on holidays when it opened at eight and closed at ten, except when Frank Miller was working, in which case the hours seemed to stretch into something that had nothing to do with time and everything to do with waiting for something that would never come. Frank was forty-one. He had been a...
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  • Labyrinth of Fragments
    (V-12: Gothic Horror/Poetic) The city of Ouroboros did not exist on any map. It was a sprawling, impossible architecture of obsidian spires and floating bridges, a place where the sky was a bruised purple and the rain fell upwards. I woke up in the center of the Great Plaza, my memories a shattered mirror, my identity a handful of dust. I was Kael, or so the silver coin in my pocket told me. I...
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  • The Midnight Detective
    The Midnight Detective Act I — The Alley Jack Malone woke up on his back in an alley behind a restaurant on Mulberry Street, rain falling through a gap between the buildings like a thin white ceiling, and the first thing he noticed was that his knuckles were split and bleeding. The second thing he noticed was the key in his coat pocket, brass, with a number stamped on its bow: 4B. He stood...
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  • Still Drifting
    ## Act I The bottle was plastic. Blue, dented, the kind you'd buy at a gas station for a dollar and fill with beer. Mike Kowalski found it on the shore of the abandoned marina where the Cuyahoga River met the lake, and he picked it up out of habit more than anything else. His hands were shaking—not from withdrawal, not anymore, he'd been sober for three weeks, just from the cold. Ohio in...
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  • The Diner on Route 41
    Donna came in at six every morning. She punched the clock, put on her apron, and started refilling the sugar caddies. The diner opened at six-thirty, and by seven the first regulars would be in—Frank with his coffee black, Rita with her egg white omelet, the two guys from the plant who never spoke to each other but always sat at the same counter stools, three seats apart, like they were afraid...
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  • The Silent Garden of Ashes
    ## Act I: The Outset The mud of the Belgian frontier had a way of swallowing everything—boots, hope, and the occasional scream. Julian, a Lieutenant with a penchant for Keats and a gaze that seemed perpetually fixed on a horizon only he could see, stood amidst the ruins of a shattered hamlet. His white dress uniform was a scandalous anomaly in this grey wasteland, a stark, fragile beacon of a...
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  • The Last Operator
    Harlan Graves sat on the base of the radio telescope every night and listened to the wind. He was fifty-two years old and had not worked since the coal mine closed. He had been a miner for twenty-eight years, which meant he had spent more of his life underground than above it. When the mine closed, he emerged into a world that had no use for men who knew how to dig holes in the earth. The town...
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  • The Engineer
    The Engineer's Last Shift The numbers on the ionosphere monitor were wrong. Mike Callahan knew this the way a mechanic knows an engine is misfiring—by sound, by feel, by twenty-two years of knowing exactly what every machine in the Brooklyn coal plant was supposed to do. The monitor sat in the corner of the control room, a World War II-era device that had been installed to track atmospheric...
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