The Golden Downtown
You wake in the dream with the taste of iron and rust on your tongue, a metallic tang that coats the back of your throat and refuses to leave. In the dream, you are standing in the center of a vast, empty plaza, the kind found in the old industrial cities of the Midwest, where the air always hangs heavy with the scent of coal dust and wet stone. Before you rises the Hall of Justice, a monolith...
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