The Measured Friction of a Forgotten Lineage Found Beneath the Glare of Pristine Modern Silver
CHAPTER 1: THE FRICTION OF EXCLUSION The security gate smelled of cold zinc and the chemical signature of cheap plastic identification cards. It was a sterile, high-ceilinged sorting pen designed to filter out the small, inconvenient realities of the outside world before they could touch the polished wood of the main gallery. Beyond the stanchions,…