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07/02/2006
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The Crystallization of Silas FaulknerHe had been a liquid man for sixty-two years. That was the phrase that came to him, standing at the study window as the Ashley River ate the last of the lower terrace, a phrase from a chemistry textbook he had read at nineteen and never forgotten: a liquid takes the shape of its container. He had been a liquid, taking the shape of his father's expectations, of his grandfather's debts, of the...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 3 Views 0 previzualizareVă rugăm să vă autentificați pentru a vă dori, partaja și comenta!
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The Threshold of LightFor three years the pressure had been building, invisible and insidious, the way water presses against a dam without anyone on the other side noticing the strain. Edgar Moretti had learned to measure his days not by the clock on the mantelpiece—which Sir Arthur wound each morning with the same precision he applied to everything—but by the spread of the luminous network beneath his skin. He had...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 3 Views 0 previzualizare
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The Professor in the CornerI The classroom smelled of old paper and floor wax. Twenty students sat in the front rows, their notebooks open, their pens poised. I stood at the back of the room, leaning against the wall, because that was where I always stood. Sitting made me look like I cared, and I didn't want them to think that. "Professor Johnson," said a voice from the third row. "You said last week that sociology had...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 3 Views 0 previzualizare
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The Patient from BelowChapter 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...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 8 Views 0 previzualizare
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The iron ledger lay heavy in Edgar Moriarty's hands, its leather cover cracked like the faces of the men who had owned it before him.The attic of Blackmoor Hall smelled of damp wool and old paper. Below, the gas lamps of London flickered through the fog, casting long shadows across the floorboards. Edgar was twenty-three, orphaned, with nothing but a name that belonged to no one and a mind that refused to forget. He opened the ledger to the first page. In faded ink, the old steward Harold Blackwood had written: Observation...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 7 Views 0 previzualizare
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The Keeper of BlackfriarsI am Arthur Winchester, thirty-two years old and accomplished of nothing. I sit each morning at a desk in the financial district, copying numbers into ledgers that will outlive me by perhaps a decade, while the men above me in the towers of Threadneedle Street purchase something I can never afford: two hundred additional years of life. They call it the Perpetual Tincture. An alchemical...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 5 Views 0 previzualizare
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The Lonely ZenithThe empire of Aethelgard was a clockwork marvel of brass and steam, a city where the laws of physics were merely suggestions for those with the will to rewrite them. Julian was a scavenger in the soot-stained alleys of the Lower Ward, a boy who spent his days diving into the scrap-heaps of the Great Engine, searching for fragments of the Old World. Then he found the Chronos Key. It was a device...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 7 Views 0 previzualizare
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The-Diamond-WitnessThe Diamond WitnessThe letter arrived on a Tuesday, sealed in wax the color of dried blood.Elizabeth Thornbury broke it at her desk in the Bloomsbury laboratory, surrounded by glassware and the smell of carbolic acid. The letter was from her grandfather's solicitor. He was dead. And he had left her an iron box — locked, small, heavy — that had sat in the corner of his study for twenty years.She...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 3 Views 0 previzualizare
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The Sterling AlgorithmIn the glass towers of New York, power is not inherited; it is engineered. Maximilian Sterling had engineered the most powerful asset management firm in the world, a machine that could predict market crashes and manufacture fortunes. He was the architect of the new world, a man who believed that human emotion was simply a noise in the data. Dominic, the CEO and son-in-law, was the perfect...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 7 Views 0 previzualizare
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The Starlight ArkI. The storm hit Manhattan on a Tuesday in October, which was wrong on two counts: first, hurricanes do not visit New York in October; second, the ones that do do not breach the Hudson River dam and drown Lower Manhattan in six feet of black water by midnight. I learned all this from the radio. I was in a warehouse on the Brooklyn waterfront, water rising past my ankles, listening to a...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 8 Views 0 previzualizare
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The Gilded Cage of ReasonThe city of Aethelgard was a monument to the Enlightenment, a place where reason was the only currency and logic the only law. In Aethelgard, the "Academy of Pure Thought" governed every aspect of existence, from the architecture of the streets to the frequency of the citizens' heartbeats. To feel was to be inefficient; to love was to be irrational. Julian was the Academy's most celebrated...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 7 Views 0 previzualizare
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The Albatross on Brooklyn BridgeThe bridge was empty at seven in the morning except for Daniel Reeves and the fog. The fog was thick enough to make the suspension cables disappear into gray, turning the Brooklyn side into a silhouette and the Manhattan skyline into a watercolor that was still wet and bleeding at the edges. Daniel was waiting for the light to change so he could cross to the train station. He had been commuting...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 7 Views 0 previzualizare
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