Actueel
  • The Debt of Silences
    The Ashes of Ashworth The letter arrived on a Tuesday, delivered by a boy with muddy knees and a look that suggested he'd rather be anywhere else. No stamp. No postmark. Just my name—Edmund Ashworth—written in ink the color of dried blood. Inside was a single sentence: You owe. It always begins with what you owe. My uncle had died three days prior, and with him the last living claim to...
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  • The Rusty Protocol
    The woman sat down beside me at the card table like she owned the place. She wore a red silk dress that caught the neon light from the Chinatown window and turned it into something dangerous. Her lips were the same color as the dress. "I have a job for you," she said. She slid a photograph across the table. It showed an old man sitting in a pile of garbage, sorting through it with hands like...
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  • The Orchard of Shadows
    The de Soto plantation sat on the Mississippi delta like a wound that would not heal. Once, it had been worth two million dollars—four hundred acres of cotton, three hundred of orchard, a house with twelve rooms and a porch that overlooked the river. Now it was worth nothing, or close to nothing, and the house groaned under the weight of a mortgage that had been called due three years ago and...
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  • The Observatory on the Moor
    Elinor pressed her palm against the cold stone. The wall was unfinished, rough with the bite of the chisel, and the moor wind drove through her linen sleeve like a blade. She stood alone at midnight, the moor stretching black and endless in every direction, the sky above her a ceiling of cloud and starlight so bright it hurt. She pressed her hand harder and closed her eyes. Somewhere inside...
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  • THE QUIET AGREEMENT
    Act I — The Spark The rain in Neo-Los Angeles never stopped. It just paused occasionally, like a breath held between sentences, and then resumed with the same steady, indifferent rhythm. Jack Harper sat in his office on the forty-second floor of the Odyssey Space Mining building, looking at the document in front of him. It was a nondisclosure agreement—standard for Odyssey employees, thicker...
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  • The Martyrdom of Gold
    Act I: The Spark Julian Vane was the "Golden Boy" of the Gilded Age, a man whose financial genius was whispered about in the halls of the New York Stock Exchange. He had built an empire of steel and oil, a monument to the American Dream. But Julian was haunted by a vision: he saw a future where his wealth was the very thing that destroyed the world. He saw a wasteland of smog and greed, a world...
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  • The Patient from Below
    Chapter 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...
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  • The Echoes of Home
    October in Queens always smelled of damp concrete and frying onions. Sarah sat on her porch, her joints aching with a cold that no amount of wool could keep out. In her lap was a stack of letters, their edges yellowed, tied together with a piece of blue twine. Leo had been her miracle. Born into the grey poverty of the tenements, he was a boy who looked at the stars while other boys looked at...
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  • The Patient from Below
    Part 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...
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  • The Terminal Clock
    In the sterile, white-on-white corridors of the Manhattan Life Center, Dr. Elias Thorne was known as the man who could buy time. He didn't use medicine; he used a perception. Elias could see the "Terminal Clock" hovering above every human head—a shimmering, digital countdown of their remaining seconds. He had the ability to reach out and pause the clock, or even wind it back a few turns. But...
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  • The Protector of Chinatown
    ## Act I: The Return (20%) Pittsburgh in 1924 was a city of steel and smoke, where the sky above the Monongahela River was permanently stained the color of bruised iron. Jack Chen stood on the corner of East Broadway and watched the snow fall through the gaslight, his veteran's discharge paper crumpled in his coat pocket. He had come home from France with a Silver Star and a soul full of holes....
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  • The River Girl
    The River GirlThe river doesn't care. That's the first thing you learn when you live next to it. It flows the same whether you're watching it or not. Whether you're rich or whether you're nothing. The river doesn't care.Ray knew that. He'd learned it over forty-two years of living in a trailer by the Mississippi in a town called Oelwein, Iowa, which is the kind of place you drive through on the...
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