
The Algorithm’s Shadow
The air in Willow Creek tasted like rust and pine resin as Mara stepped off the bus, her boots crunching gravel. The town had not changed in ten years—same crooked streetlights, same peeling mural of a fox on the general…
The air in Willow Creek tasted like rust and pine resin as Mara stepped off the bus, her boots crunching gravel. The town had not changed in ten years—same crooked streetlights, same peeling mural of a fox on the general…