The Golden Downtown
You are standing in the center of a room that does not exist, or perhaps it is the only room that does, a vast, circular atrium of polished obsidian and bone-white marble where the air is so still it feels like a held breath, and you are wearing a suit that fits too tightly across the shoulders, the wool scratching your neck, and you are holding a small, cold key in your left hand, a key that...
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