The Golden Compass
The building breathes. You feel it in the soles of your shoes. A slow, rhythmic expansion of the marble floors beneath your feet. The air is thin, filtered through systems that hum with a frequency only you seem to hear. You are standing in the atrium of the Meridian Institute. It is a cathedral of glass and steel, suspended above the city, a monolith of power that does not blink, does not...
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