The Faded Frequency
The air in the subterranean archive of the Royal Geological Survey smelled of wet slate, decaying paper, and the metallic tang of old ink, a scent that had long since permeated the very fibers of Arthur Pendelton’s woolen waistcoat. He sat at a desk of dark oak, its surface scarred by decades of chisel marks and coffee rings, surrounded by stacks of survey logs from the late nineteenth century,...
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