The Distant Machine
October 12, 2024 The coffee in my mug is cold, a stagnant brown pool that mirrors the gray light filtering through the blinds of my office. I am forty-two years old, a senior actuary at Halloway & Sons, and I am currently trying to remember the specific coefficient for the 1994 mortality table, a number that should be as ingrained in my neural pathways as my own name. It is not there. It is a...
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