The Infinite Experiment
ACT ONE The prosthetic leg made a sound like a door closing every time Tom Harrison walked. Not a loud sound—just a sharp metallic click that marked his steps through the Brooklyn basement like a metronome keeping time for a song no one wanted to hear. Thomas "Tom" Harrison sat at a workbench covered in schematics, calipers, and half-empty coffee cups, and tried to ignore the click. He was...
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