The Golden Scar
The banquet hall of the Ministry of Internal Cohesion was a cathedral of steel and glass, suspended in the void of the upper atmosphere where the air had to be pumped in, filtered, and recirculated through veins of cold blue light that pulsed with the rhythmic, mechanical heartbeat of the state. Margaret Holloway sat at the long table, her spine rigid, her hands folded neatly in her lap,...
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