The Pale Bonsai
The collapse of the eastern wall did not occur with a roar, but with a sigh, a long, dusty exhalation of timber and plaster that settled into the silence of the archive like snowfall. Margaret Holloway stood in the center of the room, her hands pressed flat against the cold, metallic surface of the central processing unit, watching the dust motes dance in the shafts of pale light that now...
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