The Observation of a Hollow Man
I have served Mr. Sterling for thirty-two years. I was there when he was a boy of ten, shivering in the library of a bankrupt estate, reading books on macroeconomics as if they were holy scriptures. I remember the way he would look at the world—not as a place to live, but as a puzzle to be solved, a series of inefficiencies to be corrected. He didn't play with toys; he played with...
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