The Golden Harbor
The letter lay on the steel workbench, its edges crisp against the cold metal, bearing the seal of the Department of Marine Sciences. Elias Thorne read it twice, his fingers tracing the indented ink of the words "insufficient empirical rigor," before he folded it into a small, tight square and placed it in his breast pocket. He was forty-two, a man whose life had narrowed to a single, pulsing...
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