July arrived over the highlands of Westchester with an expansive, humid heat that drew dark green moss up the shaded crevices of the granite retaining walls at Stony Point. Down near the river, the air hung thick and motionless, fragrant with wild sassafras, wet slate, and the heavy perfume of late-blooming elderberry along the forest boundary.
On the lower terrace, the physical structure of the Nemesis Global Archives was approaching structural completion. Scaffolding still clung to the exterior quartz gables, but inside the main atrium, the heavy work of stone-cutting had ended. The floor of polished black river stone lay spotless, reflecting the high clerestory windows like dark, still water.
I stood on the mezzanine level overlooking the reading room, wearing a sleeveless coat of tai
