The Faded Alibi
The count began with the escapement, three hundred and twelve teeth, each one worn smooth by the friction of centuries, a mechanical heartbeat that had long since outlasted the hands that built it. Elias Thorne stood before the open belly of the Great Meridian, his fingers stained with the black grease of oil and time, feeling the vibration of the gear train through the soles of his boots, a...
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