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02/05/2004
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Actueel
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THE PEOPLE'S ENGINE### Act I: The Spark James Callahan first understood what engineering meant at the age of twelve, when he was sent into the depths of the Homestead Steel Plant to unclog a jammed conveyor belt that had brought the entire rolling mill to a halt. The foreman had given him a choice: crawl through the gap between two moving rollers, or watch his father lose a week's wages for the downtime. James...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 4 Views 0 voorbeeldPlease log in to like, share and comment!
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The Stone Judge of OakhavenThe stone stood in the courthouse square of Oakhaven, Mississippi, and everyone in town knew what it was, though nobody alive remembered when it had been put there. It was a figure, roughly hewn from local granite, perhaps six feet tall, standing on a pedestal that had been stained dark by a hundred years of rain and smoke and things people would not name. The figure had no identifiable...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 4 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The Covenant of the White ScaleThe world was a fractured mirror of floating isles and singing winds. Kaelen was a Guardian of the Lowlands, a man whose duty was to protect the borders between the human settlements and the wild, untamed spirits of the earth. He was a warrior of the old code, believing that the only way to survive the wild was to dominate it. That belief died the day he found the Great White Serpent. The...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 4 Views 0 voorbeeld
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Golden SandsGolden Sands The party was on the hotel terrace, and the terrace was full of people who had money and people who wanted their money and people who were pretending to have money when they didn't but were very good at pretending, which in 1924 was essentially the same thing as having money. Jack Calloway was in the corner. He was not playing music -- he was not anyone's idea of a musician, not...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 6 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The Sun's MirrorArthur Dunn was thirty-five years old when he first saw the sun in his mind. It was not a metaphor. It was not a poetic image. It was a literal, physical vision: a great golden eye that watched him from the heavens, unblinking, judging, knowing everything he had ever done and everything he would ever do. He had been a man of science for twenty years. He had studied at Cambridge, where he had...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 6 Views 0 voorbeeld
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Title: The Symphony of SilencesJulian lived in the attic of the New York Public Library, though not in the parts where the tourists wandered. He resided in the Sub-Archives, a realm of dust and velvet where the air tasted of ozone and forgotten ink. Julian was a Curator of Echoes. He didn't manage books; he managed the residual consciousness of extinct civilizations, stored in shimmering vials of liquid light. In the 1920s,...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 4 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The Story That Contained ItselfDanbury, Connecticut, 1956. The suburban sprawl smelled of freshly cut grass and cigarette smoke, the two aromas merging in the humid August air to create a scent that was distinctly American, distinctly postwar, distinctly built on the assumption that tomorrow would be better than today and today was already better than yesterday. Robert Shaw lived in a colonial on Hemlock Drive with a wife...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 5 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The Whitmore FileAct I The whiskey was on the counter. The bottles were on the counter. The eviction notice was also on the counter, which felt like either good customer service or a very bad joke. I was leaning against the counter when the text came through, so I read it with my left hand while my right hand was holding the last good bottle of Bulleit like it was going to make a run for it. The number was one...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 11 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The Weekend TyrantI. The free bookstore was in a church basement on the south side, and it was run by a woman named Martha who looked like she had been made out of leftover parts—too thin, too tall, with a face that had forgotten what it was supposed to do but kept forgetting anyway. She handed me a book without looking at me, the way you hand a cigarette to someone you've seen before but don't know....0 Reacties 0 aandelen 1 Views 0 voorbeeld
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The Ghost in the CodeThe Ghost in the Code Thomas Wakefield discovered the first anomaly on a Tuesday, which was significant because Tuesdays were the days he was supposed to be at his job as a junior architect at a firm on Park Avenue. Instead, he was in his apartment on the Upper West Side, staring at a laptop screen that displayed a spreadsheet containing data he did not remember entering. The spreadsheet...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 11 Views 0 voorbeeld
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Symmetry of the Forgotten[Existentialist Variation] The letter arrived on a Tuesday, wrapped in paper that had been folded and unfolded so many times the creases had turned the colour of tea stains. Cecilia Duval held the fragile parchment in her trembling hands, the paper feeling like the skin of an ancient ghost, translucent and brittle against her fingertips and felt the paper tremble—not the paper, her hands. The...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 13 Views 0 voorbeeld
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Every Crash a Smaller MirrorIt started with the numbers. Everything in my life that ever mattered started with numbers, and everything that ended in disaster started with me. Captain Reyes laid the accident reports across my kitchen table like he was dealing a losing hand of poker. Seven crashes in eleven days, all on the same stretch of the Tappan Zee Bridge, all involving the same vehicle, a green Tesla Model S with an...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 15 Views 0 voorbeeld
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