The Golden Song
The server room hummed, a low, electric thrum that vibrated in the marrow of my bones, a sound so constant it had become the background radiation of my life. I sat in the blue glow of the monitors, the air recycled and sterile, smelling of ozone and old dust. For three years, I had been the shield for Arthur Sterling, the CTO, a man who believed that data was the only truth left in a world...
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