The Distant Temple
The iron gates of the Ministry of Truth and Memory were not closed so much as they were welded, a scar of rusted metal across the throat of the city, and Elias Thorne stood before them not as a supplicant but as a surgeon, his hands trembling with the specific, electric anxiety of a man who knows he is about to cut out a tumor from the body of the state. He was a scholar of the Industrial...
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