The Golden Downtown
You are standing in the center of the atrium of the Department of Anomalous Containment, a space that should be sterile and white but is instead saturated with the thick, cloying scent of ozone and crushed marigolds, the air so heavy with static electricity that the fine hairs on your forearms stand rigid like the quills of a frightened porcupine, and you are wearing your uniform, the deep navy...
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