The Golden Circuit
Amit Ansari’s hands were shaking as he folded the linen, the fabric stiff with the salt air of the shipbreaker’s beach. He was thirty-two, a registrar of displaced persons in a border town that smelled of wet peat and rust, and he wanted the seal. Not the brass stamp on the desk, but the High Priest’s signet, the golden circuit that would bind his soul to the throne of power and end his exile....
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