The Golden Circuit
March 14th, 0400 hours. The rain has not stopped for three days, a persistent, grey static that hums against the reinforced glass of the observation deck, blurring the city below into a smear of wet asphalt and neon, a world dissolved by the relentless wash of the storm. I am writing this from the corner of the secure room, the only place where the lights do not flicker, the only place where...
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