The Distant Crown
The rain had stopped, but the air in Seattle remained thick, a gray wool blanket that pressed against the windows of the office tower. Margot sat at her desk, the glass surface cold against her forearms. Before her lay the file. It was not a digital document, though the data inside was pure code. It was a physical printout, ink still faintly damp, smelling of ozone and toner. The object was a...
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