The Purple Traffic Light
In New York City, efficiency is the only religion, and the stopwatch is its primary scripture. I, Arthur Penhaligon, was a high priest of the Absolute in my former life, a being who could rewrite the constants of gravity with a thought. Now, I spent my afternoons flipping burgers at a "Beef-n-Bun" on 42nd Street, wearing a polyester cap that smelled of old grease and failure. The transition had...
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