The Distant Machine
The mainspring of the Distant Machine snapped at 4:13 AM on a Tuesday in November, the sound like a gunshot inside a cathedral, and Elias Thorne knew instantly that the life he had spent thirty years constructing had just been dismantled by a single, unyielding piece of steel. He sat on the floor of his workshop, the cold Chicago wind rattling the single pane of glass in the window, and watched...
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