The Faded Shield
Four hundred and twelve hours. That was the count on the stress-test log, a column of digits so tight it looked like a barcode for the end of the world. Elias Thorne tapped the glass of his tablet, the haptic feedback buzzing against his thumb, a small, mechanical shiver that did not match the deep, rhythmic thrumming rising through the soles of his boots. The new suspension bridge over the...
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