The Distant Machine
The ink in the ledger moved. It was a slow, viscous crawl, like oil spreading on water, but it happened only when Elias Thorne looked away. He had been staring at the page for ten minutes, waiting for the formula to resolve into the actuarial tables that would save Halloway & Sons, but the numbers remained a blur of black smear. He blinked, and the ink settled back into its original, static...
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