The Golden Visit
The dream began not with light, but with the specific, metallic taste of ozone and old blood, a sensation that Elias Thorne had learned to associate with the failing insulation of the Great Pneumatic Exchange, a vast industrial cathedral of brass gears and pressurized air tubes that hummed in the basement of the city’s financial district. In this feverish slumber, Elias was not a clerk, but a...
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