The Golden Downtown
The dream began not with light, but with the suffocating, humid weight of the air, a thick, invisible gelatin that pressed against the skin of Elias Thorne’s face as he lay sprawled on the cold, iron grating of the subterranean transit hub, a place that existed in the negative space between the city’s visible streets and the bedrock of the earth, a labyrinth of soot-stained brick and hissing...
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