The Golden Circuit
The dream began, as it always did, with the taste of copper on a tongue that had forgotten how to speak, a metallic sweetness that coated the roof of my mouth like a varnish, sealing in the air of the great atrium where the light fell in shafts of pale, sterile gold, illuminating the dust motes that danced in the stillness of the power vacuum that surrounded us. I stood at the base of the...
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