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Time is negotiable, a currency whose value fluctuates.

Each morning I arrive at the terminal to find the same pristine carriage waiting for me. I have been operating this equipment for longer than any reasonable person would consider healthy, yet it shows no signs of wear. The upholstery remains unmarked. The windows are spotless. The floors are so clean they reflect the fluorescent lights like a mirror.

This strikes me as implausible.

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