The Distant Nightmare
The banquet hall of the Meridian Steel Works hummed with the low, thrumming vibration of industry. It was a sound that lived in the bones, a constant reminder that the men in the tailored suits were merely the visible crest of a much larger, churning machine. At the center of the long, mahogany table sat Elias Thorne, a man who did not quite fit the mold of the others. He was not a factory...
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