Ink Revelation

This is the year 2024. The ancient book restorer's workbench is stacked with nano-gold repairs and wormhole mounting knives, the bronze armillary sphere is humming in the radiation-proof basement, and the bloody smell of 1983 oozes from the broken pages of the decoration magazine. Every attempt is a murder, every attempt is a lie. Welcome to the battlefield of latitude restorers, where dopamine is the poison, caffeine is the password, and you and I are the unfinished foreshadowing in the ink abyss. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.