The Golden Circuit
The rain had not stopped for three days. It drummed against the glass of the high tower, a relentless, hollow beat. I sat in the corner, my legs crossed, staring at the object in my hands. It was a circuit, or so they called it. A thin ribbon of gold wire, twisted into a loop, resting on my palm. It was warm. It had been warm since I found it in the mud behind the old mill. My name is Julian. I...
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