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... the Nevada desert, Richard’s android doppelganger, accompanied by a small detail of human security, stepped out of a sleek, private jet onto a dusty, isolated airstrip. The air was hot, still, and heavy with the scent of dry earth. Waiting beside a polished black limousine was a man with a neatly trimmed beard and sharp, European features, impeccably dressed despite the oppressive heat.
"Mr. Santamo," the man greeted, extending a hand. His grip was firm, surprisingly strong. "I’ve been e ...
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