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24/02/1967
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The Cog in the Silver MachineIn the New York of the 22nd century, the city was no longer a place of residence; it was a ledger of assets. Everything—the air you breathed, the sleep you bought, the very thoughts you were allowed to have—was owned by the Omni-Corp. We were not citizens; we were "Human Resources," categorized by our utility and depreciated over time. I was Marcus, a Grade-4 Technician. My utility was high,...0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 3 Views 0 AnteprimaEffettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
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THE QUIET ENDFrank O'Malley woke at six in the morning. It was not an alarm clock that woke him. It was the habit of waking at six, established twelve years ago in a base camp in the Ho Chi Minh Trail and never broken, even after he broke everything else. He lay in the dark. The apartment was small—one bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchen that was really just a corner with a stove and a refrigerator the size of...0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 3 Views 0 Anteprima
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The Silent Prayer of the SpireThe city of Argentum was a gothic nightmare of flying buttresses and weeping gargoyles, floating in a sea of eternal twilight. The inhabitants lived in a state of perpetual prayer, their lives governed by the "Order of the Silent Word." Sister Elara was the Order's most devoted acolyte. She spent her days in the Great Cathedral, scrubbing the cold marble floors and listening to the same...0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 6 Views 0 Anteprima
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THE SIGNAL FROM LILY BRENNANThe office was on State Street, third floor of a building that smelled of boiled cabbage and old plumbing and the faint, sweet-sour smell of whiskey that seeped up from the bar downstairs. It was a small office—just a desk, a chair, a filing cabinet that stuck when you pulled the second drawer, and a window that looked out over a brick wall so close I could touch it if I leaned far enough out...0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 7 Views 0 Anteprima
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The Patient from BelowThe 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...0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 4 Views 0 Anteprima
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The roof leaked into a coffee pot. The coffee pot sat under the leak. It had been there for three weeks. Ray had meant to move it. He hadn't.His trailer was on the edge of Youngstown, Ohio — not the Youngstown of the old newspapers, when the steel mills employed twenty thousand people and the downtown was full of people who believed in something, any something, at three in the morning. This was the Youngstown of now: a town that had been hollowed out and filled with dollar stores and vacant lots and a community center where Ray...0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 9 Views 0 Anteprima
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The Sword at BlackmoorAct I: The Call The fog came in off the moors like a slow tide, swallowing the stone walls of Blackmoor Manor whole. Edmund Ashworth stood at the window of his father's study and watched it move, his reflection ghosting against the glass. At twenty-two, he had inherited his father's sharp features and his mother's stubborn jaw, and neither had prepared him for what waited ahead. Three days....0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 4 Views 0 Anteprima
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THE FROST OF BETRAYALFrank Kowalski stood in the parking lot of the Great Lakes Manufacturing plant with a cardboard box in his hands. The box contained a lunch pail, a framed photo of his wife and son, a set of wrenches, and a company watch he had not earned. The factory gates were locked. A chain hung across the entrance like a dead rope. He looked at the building. It had been his life for twenty-three years. Now...0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 4 Views 0 Anteprima
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The Velvet Shadow(Paranormal Romance Variation) Clara lived in a house that breathed. It was an old Victorian estate on the edge of a cliff in Cornwall, where the wind howled like a wounded animal and the sea crashed against the rocks with a rhythmic, violent hunger. Clara was a restoration artist, spending her days breathing life back into faded canvases, but her nights were spent in the company of a ghost....0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 8 Views 0 Anteprima
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The Silent ArchiveOctober 12, 1942. Dearest Clara, I am writing this from a room that smells of damp limestone and old ink. They have moved me to the archives of the Ministry of Records. It is a vast, subterranean labyrinth where the history of our city is being systematically rewritten. My job is simple: I find the discrepancies between the old reports and the new directives, and I erase them. I am a ghost,...0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 7 Views 0 Anteprima
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The Signal Operator**Queens, New York** The coffee machine in the break room was broken again. I kicked it once—hard, but not hard enough to damage it, just hard enough to express my opinion—and it worked for maybe ten more minutes before giving up entirely. That was fine. I didn't really want coffee. I wanted to go home and sleep for a week. It was 6:47 AM on a Tuesday in March 2015. I was working the night...0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 6 Views 0 Anteprima
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Blood and MagnoliasThe Spanish moss hanging from the live oaks along Cypress Lane did not sway so much as it hung, like laundry left to dry on a line that had not been pulled in thirty years. Bell Thorne stood on the porch of the house that had been her family's for four generations and watched the rain fall in sheets that turned the dirt road into a river, and she thought about how water, left long enough, could...0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 7 Views 0 Anteprima
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