The Pale Bridge
The argument started with the door. It was a heavy oak slab, banded with iron. It had been there since the mill was built. Elias stood in the center of the atrium, his hands pressed flat against the wood. The wood was warm. Not room temperature. Hot. "You are damaging it," said Director Halloway. Elias did not turn. "It is speaking." "It is wood, Elias. It is dead matter." "Dead matter does not...
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