The Distant Ghost
The blueprint was wrong, and we both knew it before the ink had even dried on the parchment. "Master Aldous," I said, my voice sounding thin in the cramped office, "the load-bearing arches cannot support the weight of the new reservoir if we keep the foundation on the silt layer. It will sink within a season." Aldous did not look up from his ledger. The light from the single gas lamp was...
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