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John sat in a recliner, browsing through a compendium of Kropotkin’s works. Far from his favourite political author, but one who did not take in perspectives they did not understand was bound to be confused. John hated being confused.

The door to the reading room flew open. “Didn’t you see the sign on the door?” the Gamer asked, not even bothering to look up. He turned a page while the impatient thumping of hasty steps reverberated from the wooden floor. By the pattern of steps ...

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