The Golden Circuit
You speak in the language of the wire. It is not a language of breath. It is the tongue of voltage and void. You have learned it by rote, by the burning of your fingertips against the cold brass terminals, by the hum that rises in the dark of the server room like a choir of dead bees. Here, in the Gilded Hall, where the chandeliers drip with crystals that cut the air into shards of light, you...
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