The Distant Metropolis
The chandelier in the atrium of the Meridian Tower did not shine; it hummed. It was a lattice of cold steel and trapped light, a constellation suspended over the open-plan office where Margot Vane sat, her hands folded in her lap like a prayer she had long since stopped believing in. The building was a beast of glass and steel, a monolith that scraped the belly of the city’s gray sky, and...
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