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  • The Man Who Left
    The Man Who Left Danny stood in the hotel ballroom and watched Claire across the room. She was laughing at something her date said, and the laugh was the same laugh it had always been—bright and slightly self-deprecating, the kind of laugh that made you want to say something funny to make her do it again. She looked happy. Not the fake kind of happy that people wear at these things, like a...
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  • The Protocol of Empire
    They gave me a title when I arrived at the Royal Observatory in Greenwich: Junior Research Associate. It was a kind title, and it was a lie. I was twenty-eight years old, born in Lagos to a Yoruba father who had taught me to read from the pages of a worn copy of Newton's Principia and a Igbo mother who had taught me to count from one to a hundred in three languages before I was five. I had...
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  • THE GLASS ALGORITHM
    I Jack Marlowe did not believe in fate. He believed in evidence. Evidence was something you could hold in your hand, something you could examine under a lamp, something you could follow from point A to point B without having to believe in anything you couldn't see. But the Glass Algorithm was making him reconsider. His latest client was a woman named Elena Vasquez. She was twenty-eight, wearing...
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  • The Signal from Mars Base
    ========================= The dust does not stop. It is the first thing you learn about Mars: the dust never stops. It hangs in the thin atmosphere like a permanent state of late afternoon, red and fine and everywhere. It gets into the seals of the airlocks. It gets into the filters of the recyclers. It gets into your dreams. You start to see red when you close your eyes. Mozart Station sits on...
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  • The Patient from Below
    The voice started on a Tuesday, in the basement of Dr. Edward Blackwood's clinic in the town of Arkham, Massachusetts. Eddie was fifteen, brilliant and troubled in equal measure, and he had spent the last three years sitting on his father's examination table while his father examined other people's minds. His father was sitting in his armchair, conducting what should have been a routine session...
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  • THE PEOPLE'S ENGINE
    ### Act I: The Spark James Callahan first understood what engineering meant at the age of twelve, when he was sent into the depths of the Homestead Steel Plant to unclog a jammed conveyor belt that had brought the entire rolling mill to a halt. The foreman had given him a choice: crawl through the gap between two moving rollers, or watch his father lose a week's wages for the downtime. James...
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  • The Sisyphus Seconds
    The office was a cathedral of beige. Fluorescent lights hummed with a frequency that seemed to vibrate in my teeth, and the air smelled of ozone and desperation. I sat at Desk 402, a grey cubicle that felt less like a workspace and more like a coffin for the living. I had the Glitch. A neurological anomaly that allowed me to rewind time by ten seconds. In the beginning, I thought I had found...
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  • THE QUIET END
    Frank 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...
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  • The Fitzgerald Contract
    The Fitzgerald Contract I The bookstore on Broadway smelled of old paper and new ink, and Clara Fitzgerald was hiding from four men in the poetry section because that was the kind of clever desperation only a Fitzgerald could produce. She had been running for three years. Three years of dodging dinners, of "not being in town," of convincing her father's personal assistant that she was at Vassar...
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  • 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...
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  • The Gates of Ashworth Hall
    The iron gates of Ashworth Hall groaned on rusted hinges as Arthur pushed through them, the cold Yorkshire wind biting at his thin coat. The estate lay before him like a wound in the moorland--a crumbling Georgian manor with blackened windows and a roof sagging in places as though the weight of centuries had finally broken its spine. He had never been here. He had never wanted to be here. But...
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  • Neon Shadows
    Los Angeles was a city of electric lies. Under the relentless glare of the neon signs, the truth was something that only existed in the shadows, and in the shadows, everything had a price. Victor Thorne had spent forty years building a kingdom of silence. As a retired titan of the city's underground trade, he knew where every body was buried and which judges were on his payroll. He lived in a...
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