-
179 Publicações
-
0 fotos
-
0 Vídeos
-
Female
-
22/03/1988
-
Seguido por 0 pessoas
Atualizações recentes
-
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 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 2 Visualizações 0 AnteriorFaça o login para curtir, compartilhar e comentar!
-
The Last Signal of the Iron FleetSarah Chen cried silently in the intelligence basement of Geneva Station for forty-seven minutes, then wiped her face with the back of her hand, opened a fresh cup of coffee that was already cold, and began running the simulations again. The walls of her laboratory were covered in holographic displays -- millions of communication logs, battle reports, command-chain analyses stretching back...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 2 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
THE WEIGHT OF NOTHING### Act I: The Spark Ethan Cross stood in the supermarket aisle for twelve minutes before making a decision. The decision was about cereal. There were fourteen brands on the shelf, from store-brand corn flakes at three dollars a box to artisanal granola at nine dollars, and Ethan was trying to choose one. Not because he was hungry—hunger was not the issue. The issue was that each choice carried...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 2 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The last light of New CarthageShe came to him on a night like any other—fog pressing against the gas lamps of the city, tide grinding itself against the limestone cliffs below the harbor. But this night, Arthur Blackwood was not himself. He had been awake for three days and two nights, pacing the stone floor of his study at Blackwood Manor, surrounded by pages of calculations that no sane man would believe. Then she...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 2 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The first time Lawrence Sinclair saw Virginia Blackwell, the world was still young.Manhattan, 1922. The ballroom of the Plaza Hotel glittered like a jewel box thrown open to the night. Chandeliers burned with a thousand candles, and the jazz band in the corner played something that made the air itself feel alive. Lawrence, twenty-three years old and heir to a Long Island fortune he barely understood, stood at the periphery of the crowd, nursing a glass of champagne and...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 2 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The Covenant of StarsThe orbital palace of House Corvus hung above the galactic core like a diamond necklace draped across the throat of infinity. From its highest observation deck, Archon Valerius Corvus could see the light of a billion stars compressed into a single brilliant band — the Milky Way as seen from the inside, the place where the universe had gathered itself together and decided to stay. Valerius was...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 2 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The jazz of fading starsThe music was dying, and nobody wanted to admit it. Not in New York, where the music was everything. Not in Chicago, where the music was the only thing. And certainly not in Julian Ashford, who had spent the last five years composing jazz that made people dance because they were afraid of what would happen when the music stopped. It was 1925, and the city was drowning in its own prosperity....0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 2 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
Testimony of the Gilded MirrorI was made in Venice in the year 1742, in a workshop on the Rio dei Vetrai where the air was perpetually thick with the smell of molten silica and the sound of glass being blown into shapes that had never existed before. My frame is gilded wood, carved with a pattern of acanthus leaves and cherubs that was fashionable among the Venetian merchant class in the middle decades of the eighteenth...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 584 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The ReconstructionThe water came on a Tuesday in the autumn of 1925, and by Wednesday morning, it was clear that Manhattan had been changed forever. Thomas Hudson stood on the steps of Columbia University and watched the Hudson River pour into the streets of Upper Manhattan. The water was brown and cold, carrying with it branches, trash, and the occasional piece of furniture—a chair, a table, a child's toy. It...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 2 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The quiet rainThe rain was falling on the hardware store the way rain falls on hardware stores all over the Midwest—not dramatically, not with the kind of intensity that makes you run for cover, but steadily, persistently, the kind of rain that soaks through your coat without you noticing until you are already wet. James Kellerman was behind the counter, counting inventory. Nails. Screws. Washers. The kind...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 2 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The Ghost in the BasementIn the neon-drenched chaos of Manhattan, Mark lived in a world of sterile white tiles and the smell of ozone. His girlfriend, Chloe, lay in a state of suspended animation in the basement of the Aris Clinic, her brain a silent landscape of dead neurons. Dr. Aris was a man who had been erased from every medical journal in the hemisphere. He operated in the shadows, using a technology called...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 5 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
V-06: The Cipher of Survival(Style B2: Southern Gothic) The town of Blackwood was a place where the soil was too red and the secrets were too deep. It was a land of rotting porches and weeping willows, where the ghosts of the Confederacy still whispered in the pines. In the center of this decay stood the Blackwood Academy, a crumbling gothic structure that looked more like a tomb than a school. Silas Thorne was the...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 5 Visualizações 0 Anterior
Mais stories