The Wistful Skyline
"The variable is off, Elias. Check the third decimal." Mara’s voice hung in the air of the atrium, light and brittle as the glass partitions that separated the senior archivists from the field staff. Elias Thorne looked up from his console, his eyes adjusting to the sterile, blue-tinged light of the Imperial Bio-Research Institute. He was fifty-two years old, a man who had spent three decades...
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