The Golden Compass
My hands were already slick with the cold grease of the gear train when the draft hit, a sudden, violent exhalation that spun the flywheel without a drop of steam. I am Giovanni Sabella, and I have spent twenty years in the soot-choked belly of this industrial district, enforcing labor codes that were written in ink but paid for in blood, all to secure a pension that would allow me to leave...
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