The Pale Tower
The vibration begins at three in the afternoon, a low-frequency hum that travels up through the soles of your boots and settles in the marrow of your shins. You stand before the unfinished Pale Tower, a skeletal monolith of concrete and rebar rising out of the Welsh moor, and you press your ear against the cold stone of the foundation, listening for the rhythm that defies the seismographs. You...
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