The Golden Suspect
The hive was a perfect hexagonal geometry of amber, suspended in the air by a lattice of carbon fiber that hummed at a frequency just below the threshold of human hearing. I held it with both hands, my gloved fingers trembling not from fear, but from the sheer, crushing weight of the artifact. It was beautiful. It was a lie. I am a detective, or what passes for one in this post-collapse sector....
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