The Distant Metropolis
The metropolis did not sleep—it pulsed. Beneath Arthur Penhaligon's feet, the pavement vibrated with the subsonic hum of a million unseen machines, a frequency so low it registered not as sound but as pressure in the chest, a constant reminder that he was standing atop something vast and indifferent. The city stretched in every direction like a circuit board laid bare, each building a component...
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