The Wistful Crossroads
The thumb drive sat in Elias Thorne’s palm, cold as a stone pulled from a winter creek, its plastic casing scuffed by the friction of his anxious grip. He stood in the center of the glass-walled atrium of the Meridian Institute, a modernist cube of steel and transparency that overlooked the grey sprawl of Seattle, and watched the cursor blink on the main terminal with the rhythmic persistence...
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