The Golden Circuit
The champagne tasted of copper and cold ash. Elias Thorne stood by the marble column, the glass sweating in his hand, watching the Ministry of Internal Stability’s elite laugh under chandeliers that cost more than his annual salary. He was thirty-four, a junior auditor with ink-stained fingers and a heart full of righteous fury. The Golden Circuit was a lie, a black-market neural implant sold...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews