The Golden Maze
The dream does not wake you; it dissolves you, layer by translucent layer, until you are no longer a man named Elias Thorne but a function, a node in the vast, humming architecture of the Aetheric Enforcement Bureau. You are standing in the center of the White Hall, a space that defies the geometry of the physical world, where the walls are made of solidified light and the floor is a grid of...
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