The Silent Watchtower
They called it the Jazz Age, and it was everything the name promised: glittering, desperate, and deeply, fundamentally alone. I was twenty-six years old in 1924, a former professor of sociology who had traded chalk dust for telescope glass at Mount Wilson, and I was the only man in America who knew that the universe was trying to kill us. Not trying, of course. The universe doesn't try. It...
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