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Female
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07/10/1977
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The Boardroom of Youth(V-10: New York Urban) The 40th floor of the Goldman-Sachs building had become the new capital of Manhattan. It didn't have a flag; it had a digital ticker tape that scrolled the current value of 'Survival Credits.' I am Sophia, and I am twelve years old. I don't play with dolls; I play with leverage. When the adults vanished, most kids panicked. They looked for their parents or tried to build...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 ReviewsPlease log in to like, share and comment!
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The quiet rainThe rain was falling on the hardware store the way rain falls on hardware stores all over the Midwest—not dramatically, not with the kind of intensity that makes you run for cover, but steadily, persistently, the kind of rain that soaks through your coat without you noticing until you are already wet. James Kellerman was behind the counter, counting inventory. Nails. Screws. Washers. The kind...0 Comments 0 Shares 10 Views 0 Reviews
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The Patient from BelowACT I: THE LISTENING The sanatorium sat on the edge of Whitechapel, where the fog never fully lifted and the gas lamps cast yellow circles on cobblestones that were perpetually damp. Julian Ashworth had been sent here by his physician after his "episode" at twenty-five—a nervous breakdown, the doctor called it, though Julian suspected the word "nervous" was a euphemism for something the doctor...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Patient from BelowDr. Evelyn Blackwood had been treating soldiers for fourteen months when she began to suspect that the war was happening inside their heads. The facility was a converted country estate outside New Carthage, all white corridors and padded rooms and the faint smell of carbolic and iodine. It housed the military's most difficult cases: men and women who had been brought back from the front lines...0 Comments 0 Shares 7 Views 0 Reviews
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THE PARANOIA ENGINEDr. Henry Webb was giving a lecture on cognitive asymmetry at the University of Chicago when a woman in a dark suit handed him an envelope during the question-and-answer period. The lecture hall was mostly empty — it was a Thursday afternoon in April, and most of his students had better things to do. The envelope was plain white, unsealed, and contained a single sheet of paper. The paper held a...0 Comments 0 Shares 9 Views 0 Reviews
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The Double Helix SignalIsabella Windsor first heard the signal when she was seventeen, in the library of her family's townhouse on Belgrave Square. She was reading by candlelight—a habit she had acquired during the long London nights of the Blitz, though this was 1893 and the war was long over—and the signal came through the walls, through the floor, through the very air she breathed, as though the house itself had...0 Comments 0 Shares 10 Views 0 Reviews
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The Subscription to Silence(Style: New York Modernism) In the New Manhattan, existence was a tiered service. If you could afford the 'Platinum Tier', you lived in a world of perpetual spring, with a customized consciousness that filtered out all pain and boredom. If you were 'Bronze', you lived in the grey zones, feeling every ache of the city's concrete heart. I was a 'Temporary'. A glitch in the system that allowed me...0 Comments 0 Shares 8 Views 0 Reviews
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The Velvet GameThe city of New York had become a series of walled gardens, each managed by a "Prince" of the New Era. The gardens were lush, the clothes were silk, and the conversation was a razor-sharp dance of subtext and betrayal. Julian was the Prince of the Upper East Side. He was twelve, but he wore tailored suits and spoke in the clipped, cold tones of a corporate raider. His world was not one of...0 Comments 0 Shares 6 Views 0 Reviews
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THE WEIGHT OF NOTHING### Act I: The Spark Ethan Cross stood in the supermarket aisle for twelve minutes before making a decision. The decision was about cereal. There were fourteen brands on the shelf, from store-brand corn flakes at three dollars a box to artisanal granola at nine dollars, and Ethan was trying to choose one. Not because he was hungry—hunger was not the issue. The issue was that each choice carried...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Cotton and the CosmosI.The portrait on the wall was screaming, but it had no mouth.Beauregard Delacroix stood in the gallery of his family's decaying plantation house, the Mississippi River visible through the cracked windows like a slow-moving snake. The portrait showed his great-great-grandmother Celeste, painted in 1823, the year she turned twenty-five. She had been beautiful then, with dark eyes and hair like...0 Comments 0 Shares 9 Views 0 Reviews
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The Observer's EndAct I The handwriting was his. He knew it immediately—not because he recognized the words, but because he recognized the angle of the 't' cross and the way the 'i' was dotted with a heavy hand, like he had been thinking about something else while writing. The words were on the inside cover of a textbook he had been shelving at the library. Introduction to Neural Cognition, third edition,...0 Comments 0 Shares 11 Views 0 Reviews
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The Inheritance ClauseIn the high-frequency world of Manhattan finance, everything is a derivative. Love is a hedge against loneliness; loyalty is a long-term investment with a variable return. Maximilian Thorne, the founder of Thorne Capital, lived his life by the numbers. He didn't believe in fate; he believed in probability. His son-in-law, Adrian, was a master of the "fine print." A lawyer by training and a...0 Comments 0 Shares 14 Views 0 Reviews
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