The Distant Metropolis
The rain against the glass of the fourth-floor office did not sound like rain, not to Elias Thorne, but like the white noise of a server farm cooling down, a rhythmic, mechanical exhalation that masked the deeper, more terrifying silence of his own mind. He sat before the humming tower of his personal workstation, the blue light of the dual monitors carving hollows into his cheekbones, casting...
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