The Golden Circuit
14 October 1924. The tremor in my left hand has worsened. I count the seconds between the shakes, one, two, three, four, and try to steady the stylus against the graph paper. It is a small thing, a mechanical failure in the instrument that is my body, but it feels like the first crack in a foundation. I am forty years old, and the precision that has defined my career as a structural engineer is...
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