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Female
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18/03/1963
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I have served the Thorne family for twenty-three years, and in that time I learned the most important thing about Elias Thorne: he was a good man in a place that did not want good men to survive.The house sits on a bluff overlooking the Pearl River, three hundred feet of limestone erosion that the geologists say is retreating two inches per year. The house is retreating faster. I have watched cracks appear in the foundation and spread across the ceiling of the grand parlor like lightning frozen in plaster. Elias refuses to move. "This land belongs to my family," he says. "I will not...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 0 Ansichten 0 BewertungenBitte loggen Sie sich ein, um liken, teilen und zu kommentieren!
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The Simulation of SovereigntySilas lived in the Neon Grid, a version of New York where the skyscrapers were made of solidified light and the citizens were just streams of data. He was the premier "Architect," a hacker who could rewrite the laws of physics within the Grid. He had built his own empire, a digital fortress where he was the absolute law, a place where he could create mountains of gold or oceans of fire with a...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 0 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Drawing on the Back of a PostcardParis, autumn 1924. Elena Vasquez sat in Le Reveil, drinking coffee that had gone cold an hour ago and sketching a young American who argued with everyone about literature but had never written a single line. Clara watched from across the room and said, as she had said a hundred times before: You draw people but you don't draw them happy. That's your problem. Elena did not look up. She had...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 0 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Boiling PointThe Boiling Point The heat in Mississippi does not build gradually. It accumulates. It presses. It fills every crevice of the body and every hollow of the mind until there is no space left for anything else. And then, when you think you cannot take another degree, it rises again. This is how Silas Marwood understood pressure. He had lived with it for five years. Five years since Natchez Trace,...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 5 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Shadow in the GardenPART ONE: THE MAN WITH THE SMILE He arrived on a Tuesday in 1947 New York. Vincent Marek wore a grey suit and a smile that said he knew something you did not. It was the kind of smile that was calibrated to make people lower their guard: not too wide, not too narrow, just the right amount of teeth showing to suggest warmth without crossing into friendliness. He stood on the doorstep of the...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The gears turned with a sound like grinding teeth. Charles Whitmore watched the brass pistons rise and fall, each stroke driving steam through copper pipes that ran deep beneath the London earth. Athena was alive.The machine filled an entire subterranean chamber beneath Whitmore's townhouse in Bloomsbury. It rose three stories high, a cathedral of cogwheels and differential analyzers, each gear precisely cut to tolerances no other engineer in Europe could match. Charles had spent seven years building her. Seven years of sleepless nights, of borrowed money, of his wife Eleanor's gentle concerns growing...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 8 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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Wade McCullough did not have a house. He had a trailer. It was a single-wide, white, with a concrete pad that had cracked in three places and was slowly being taken over by weeds.It sat on a narrow strip of land between the Arkansas River and Highway 65. The land was maybe an acre. It had been his father's. His father had sold half of it in 1978 to a man who built a gas station. The rest was still Wade's. Wade fished the Arkansas for forty years. He was sixty-three now. He knew every bend, every gravel bar, every submerged log from the city limits to the point where the...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The subway tunnel smelled like wet concrete and old copper. Jack sat on the edge of his sleeping bag and watched the snake eat the piece of bread he had dropped.It was a green snake. Not the kind you see in parks with people pointing at it. This one was bigger—six feet maybe, thick as a broom handle. And it had been watching him for three days. "What do you want?" Jack said. The snake lifted its head. Jack thought he heard something like a laugh. Then it spoke. "I want your bread." Jack stared. He had been living under the I-87 overpass for two months....0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 13 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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Habitat-7The view from the observation dome did not change. That was the first thing Commander Elena Vasquez had learned, and the last thing she would unlearn. Earth was a blue-white marble suspended in black, rotating with indifferent precision, and she had watched it rotate 19,420 times before Dr. Amos Krieger arrived on Habitat-7. She counted because counting was what you did when you had infinite...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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THE PATIENT FROM BELOWDr. Arthur Voss could not remember how he had arrived at the hospital. This was not, strictly speaking, true. He remembered driving through Vienna on a February evening in 1896, the gas lamps casting amber pools on the wet cobblestones, the carriages bouncing over puddles that reflected the windows of the cafés where men sat drinking brandy and talking about the future of the Balkans. He...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 12 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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THE PATIENT FROM BELOWDr. Arthur Voss could not remember how he had arrived at the hospital. This was not, strictly speaking, true. He remembered driving through Vienna on a February evening in 1896, the gas lamps casting amber pools on the wet cobblestones, the carriages bouncing over puddles that reflected the windows of the cafés where men sat drinking brandy and talking about the future of the Balkans. He...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 10 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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THE PARANOIA ENGINEDr. Henry Webb was giving a lecture on cognitive asymmetry at the University of Chicago when a woman in a dark suit handed him an envelope during the question-and-answer period. The lecture hall was mostly empty — it was a Thursday afternoon in April, and most of his students had better things to do. The envelope was plain white, unsealed, and contained a single sheet of paper. The paper held a...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 12 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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