The Pale Meridian
Thorne. The name was called out by Halloway, sharp as a snapped twig, cutting through the low hum of the pneumatic tubes that lined the walls of the Meridian Insurance Exchange. Elias turned. Halloway stood by the window, his back to the room, silhouetted against the grey November light that fell in flat, indifferent sheets. He did not turn around. He simply pointed a long, pale finger toward...
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