The Golden Circuit
The summons came not as a shout, but as a soft, persistent tapping on the glass of the office door, a sound that Elias Thorne had learned to associate with the specific gravity of a problem that had outgrown its container. He did not look up immediately; he was busy tracing the hairline fracture in the gold-plated casing of his compass, a relic from his mentor, Arthur, who had died twenty years...
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