The Golden Song
Act I The station hummed, a low-frequency thrum that vibrated in the teeth of everyone who worked the relay, a constant reminder that the air was paid for in cycles and silence. Jian Lin sat in the archive, the only place where the dampening field was calibrated to near-zero, and he waited for the audio file to buffer. He was twenty-four, a junior archivist with a berth mortgage on the...
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