The Golden Compass
The board meeting ends at four, and the gavel strikes the table like a bone breaking. They vote six to one to auction the Golden Compass. The brass instrument, with its corroded gears and tarnished face, is deemed a liability, a relic of superstition that drags down the Institute’s reputation. You sit in the back row, your hands folded in your lap, listening to Director Halloway justify the...
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