The Pale Tower
The air in the basement archives of St. Jude’s Institute for Cognitive Preservation did not smell of dust, as one might expect, but of ozone and static. It was the scent of electricity trapped in glass. Julian Thorne sat at his desk, a rectangle of polished mahogany that seemed to float in the dim blue light, his fingers hovering over a haptic interface that responded to the tremor in his wrist...
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