The Golden Circuit
The dream was always of gold, not the bright, blinding gold of currency, but the dull, tarnished gold of old circuitry, of wires stripped bare and humming with a frequency that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of the bone. Thomas Bradshaw woke with the taste of copper on his tongue, a metallic tang that clung to the roof of his mouth long after he had peeled the sheets back. He lay in the dark...
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