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  • The Two-Way Mirror - Variant 3: The Silver Spectacle (Jazz Age)
    The Two-Way Mirror - Variant 3: The Silver Spectacle Style: Jazz Age The Silver Spectacle VARIANT 3: JAZZ AGE Style: F. Scott Fitzgerald + T.S. Eliot Setting: 1924, New York City and Long Island ACT I I found the silver spectacle in a pawnshop on Broadway, half-drunk on bathtub gin and the particular variety of despair that only coming from old money with no money left can produce. The year...
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  • The Girl from Terminal 4
    The Girl from Terminal 4 The rain in Los Angeles doesn't wash anything clean. It just makes the grime shine. I stood in the doorway of the Roosevelt Hotel ballroom, watching Viktor Kross laugh at something a senator's wife said. He was good at laughing. The kind that says I own this room without actually saying it. I had seen that laugh before, but not here. In Washington, three years ago, in a...
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  • The Patient from Below
    ACT I Dr. Henry Blackwood's clinic was on Harley Street, in a building that had been a townhouse before someone with money and no taste turned it into a medical practice. The waiting room smelled of carbolic acid and lavender—two smells that had been mixed together by someone who thought they complemented each other but in fact created an odor that was worse than either alone. Blackwood sat in...
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  • Frequencies of the Rising Tide
    She was moving too fast. That was the problem. Meredith Cole had always been moving too fast. At seventeen, she had left her hometown on the coast of Maine because it was too slow, too small, too stuck in a century that had already ended. At twenty-three, she had earned her doctorate in marine biology from Scripps, the youngest in her cohort, the fastest, the best. At thirty-one, she was the...
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  • The Beauregard Covenant
    Act I The Beauregard estate had died slowly, as all things in Louisiana eventually do—through a combination of humidity, neglect, and the slow and terrible weight of history pressing down upon stone and timber like a hand pressing down upon a butterfly's wings, pinning it to the earth while the colors fade and the memories of flight become nothing more than a whisper of iridescence on...
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  • The Monument
    The rain in Los Angeles doesn't wash things clean. It just makes the grime slicker. Jack Mercer stood at the bar in his downtown office, watching the neon sign across the street flicker through the rain-streaked window. The sign said HOTEL in letters that had burned out half their bulbs, and the H was doing its best to stay lit, flickering like a heartbeat that wasn't quite sure it wanted to...
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  • The Bastion of Blood
    The year was 1789, and France was a bonfire of ambition and hatred. Lucian de Valois did not believe in the Republic, nor did he believe in the Divine Right of Kings. He believed in the Wall. Lucian was the last of a line of border lords, and he had seen the same cycle of betrayal for three generations. When the revolution ignited, he didn't flee to England or hide in a cellar. He turned his...
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  • The Ocean of Ice
    The artist arrived on a Tuesday in November, which was unremarkable except that it was the first Tuesday in Boston when the weatherman could not explain why the temperature had dropped twelve degrees in three hours. Elena Voss was at the Museum of Fine Arts when the phone rang. The director, David Chen, sounded uncharacteristically shaken. "Elena," he said. "There's something at the harbor. I...
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  • Echoes of Power
    (V-11: New York Urban) The boardroom of Sterling & Cross was a vacuum of empathy, a place where the only thing more cold than the air conditioning was the gaze of the partners. I sat at the head of the mahogany table, my face a mask of professional neutrality, while my mind was running three separate simulations of the next ten minutes. In Simulation A, I played the role of the conciliator,...
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  • The Day Shift
    The Day Shift Tom Briggs put the lenses on at nine in the morning on a Tuesday because Rick had left them in a box when he moved to Florida and Tom had nothing else to do and the lenses were sitting on his kitchen table and they looked like something you could put on your face so he put them on his face. They were dark glasses. That was all. He could see through them—the pump at the gas...
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  • The Void of Definition
    Unit 734 lived in a world of white noise and right angles. In the New Republic of New York, existence was a series of optimized data points. You were your productivity score, your social credit, and your designated function. Leo, as he had once been called, was a "Deviation"—a citizen whose neural patterns refused to synchronize with the Central Grid. He was diagnosed as "Systemically...
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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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