The Wall Street Void
The air in the 80th floor of the Sterling-Vane tower was filtered to a clinical purity, stripped of all scent and soul. Julian stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass, watching the New York City traffic below. From this height, the yellow cabs looked like a stream of golden ants, mindless and predictable. To Julian, the city was not a place of people, but a series of heat maps—clusters of desire,...
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