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181 Berichten
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Female
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18/04/1981
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Actueel
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The city of Chicago did not care about your name, your education, or your intentions. It only cared about one thing: what you could do for the Machine.Jack Rourke learned this on his third day at City Hall, when he was still calling himself a typist and not yet understanding that there were no typists in City Hall, only cogs. The Machine was not a formal organization. It did not have a charter or a headquarters or a list of members posted on a wall. It was a network—a vast, invisible web of favors and obligations that connected the mayor to...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 1 Views 0 voorbeeldPlease log in to like, share and comment!
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The mansion on blackwood hillThe house had been dying for one hundred and fifty years, and Atticus Blackwood was its last physician. Or perhaps its last mourner. He was not sure which. Blackwood Manor stood on a hill above the Savannah River in South Carolina, a sprawling Victorian structure of faded white pillars and purple ivy that had grown over the cracks like a scar tissue trying to hold the building together. The...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 0 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The Fractal Silence(V-09: Gothic Mathematics) The London of 1875 was a city of soot and secrets, but for Julian Thorne, the only truth lay in the purity of numbers. Julian was a member of the Order of the Golden Ratio, a clandestine society of mathematicians who believed that the physical world was merely a crude shadow of a higher, geometric reality. While his peers studied the stars or the steam engine, Julian...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 1 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The Brightest PursuitThe Brightest PursuitThe question was asked in a jazz club on 125th Street, and it echoed in ways that nobody, not even Vivian Cross, anticipated."You're a man who has everything," Vivian said into her microphone, leaning across the small table that separated her from the subject. The subject was a real estate developer named Harrington, and he was wearing a tuxedo that cost more than most...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 1 Views 0 voorbeeld
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Two Signatures in the MethaneThe lab at the Galbraith Lake research station was a modified shipping container with a gas chromatograph bolted to one wall and a generator that coughed like a sick animal every time the wind shifted north. Priya Sundaram sat on a folding stool, the results from the morning's run curling from the thermal printer. She had been in Alaska for eleven weeks, and in those eleven weeks she had...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 2 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The River and the SmokeThe first time Thomas Blackwood heard Clara sing, the shelling had not yet started. It was July 1, 1916—Somm's first day. The air above the battlefield smelled of cordite and wet earth, and the ambulance wagons had been running since dawn, carrying men whose legs were gone and men whose faces were gone and men who were still whole but would never be whole again. Thomas worked in a tent hospital...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 0 Views 0 voorbeeld
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Signal Loss at the AnchorThe Anchor was not a good pub. It had never been a good pub. It was a narrow wedge of a building at the corner of Cannon Street Road and a street that no longer had a name, pressed between a shuttered textiles factory and a Baptist church that had been converted into a community centre and then abandoned and then converted again into a carpet warehouse. The pub had been built in 1872, when the...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 1 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The Mirror at BlackthorneI. The accident happened on a wet road outside Edinburgh on a November evening in 1893, and the word "accident" is the first of many lies in this story. An accident implies that something was meant to happen and went wrong. What happened to Morwenna was not wrong. It went exactly right, in the sense that a fall from a height always goes right until it goes left, and when Morwenna's horse...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 0 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The River Remembers What the Land ForgetsThe River Remembers What the Land Forgets The Greyhound bus died on Highway 61 outside of Natchez with a sound like something giving up. Tommy Mercer watched it from the trunk of his Ford -- a '48 sedan that had seen better decades -- smoking a cigarette and looking at the cypress swamp that stretched east toward the river. The trees stood in the water, their knees sticking up like the knuckles...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 1 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The Bridge of AetherThe world was a shattered mirror, a thousand floating islands drifting in a sea of violet Aether. Kaelen was the last of the Sky-Born, a royal lineage capable of weaving the Aether into solid form. He had been exiled to the Fringe, the lowest ring of islands, where the air was thin and the monsters were made of static. Kaelen didn't fight for his throne; he fought for the fragments. Each island...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 1 Views 0 voorbeeld
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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 Reacties 0 aandelen 1 Views 0 voorbeeld
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V-01: The Last Observer(Victorian Melancholy Style) The fog of London in 1892 did not merely cling to the cobblestones; it seemed to swallow the very soul of the city. Inside the attic of a crumbling townhouse in Bloomsbury, Arthur sat amidst a sea of star charts and brass instruments that smelled of old oil and desperation. He was a man of forty, though his eyes held the fatigue of a thousand centuries. Arthur had...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 7 Views 0 voorbeeld
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