The Golden Maze
The radio crackled, a sound like dry leaves skittering over gravel, and Halloway’s voice cut through the static with the sharp, brittle edge of a man who had long since stopped asking permission. "Thorne. I am looking at the telemetry. You have not logged a single shelf in four hours. The audit is in three days. Do not tell me you are lost in the stacks. You are an archivist, not a tourist....
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