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The yellow glove lay in the snow, its frayed edges crusted with ice. Janitor Marcus Holt spotted it during his lunch break, its neon hue glaring against the muted alley behind the downtown bank. He nudged it with his boot—stiff, abandoned—but something glinted inside. A silver USB drive, nestled in the thumb.
Curiosity overrode caution. That evening, Marcus plugged it into his library computer. Folders labeled "Transaction 12/21" popped up—security blueprints, timestamps, voice recordings. A man’s voice, tense: “They’ll move the vault shipment at 3 AM. No witnesses.”
Marcus froze. December 21st was tomorrow.
He returned to the alley at dawn, glove gone. A figure in a black peacoat lingered nearby, scanning the ground. Marcus ducked behind a dumpster, heart pounding. The stranger’s phone buzzed—*“Find it?”*—before they vanished into the subway.
At work, Marcus scrubbed floors, ears sharp. Bank staff murmured about “upgraded security,” but the vault door stood ajar during his shift. He glimpsed stacks of unmarked boxes inside, not cash. His hands shook.
Night fell. Marcus loitered across the street, hood up. At 2:45 AM, a armored truck rolled in. Men unloaded crates—no logos, no guards. He fumbled for his phone to record, but a hand clamped his shoulder.
“You shouldn’t linger, friend.” The peacoat man’s breath fogged in the cold. “That glove… it’s not your business.”
Marcus bolted, USB burning in his pocket. Home wasn’t safe—he drove to his sister’s, spilling the story. She scrolled the files, paling. “These voiceprints… that’s the deputy mayor.”
3 AM. News alerts blared: “Bank vault fire—arson suspected.”
Marcus’s phone lit up: Unknown number. “Stop digging. Or the next fire won’t be empty.”
The yellow glove reappeared on his doorstep at sunrise. Inside: a single bullet.
He buried both in the snow, but as he walked away, a shadow followed—patient, relentless.
The digital photograph, starting point of this fiction, captured in Montreal in 2025 is available in limited editions (100) on a Manifold Contract
Title: Relic #1 / The yellow glove Photographer: Mehdi Maciej Benembarek Year: 2025 Image Size: 6720 x 4480 pixels License: Primary NFT holder is free to use in advertising, display privately and in hgroups, including virtual galleries, metaverse, social media, documentaries and essays by holder of the NFT, as long as creator is credited.
AI Conductor: Mehdi Benembarek
Text: DeepSeek (2025)
AI visuals: Leonardo AI (2025)
The yellow glove lay in the snow, its frayed edges crusted with ice. Janitor Marcus Holt spotted it during his lunch break, its neon hue glaring against the muted alley behind the downtown bank. He nudged it with his boot—stiff, abandoned—but something glinted inside. A silver USB drive, nestled in the thumb.
Curiosity overrode caution. That evening, Marcus plugged it into his library computer. Folders labeled "Transaction 12/21" popped up—security blueprints, timestamps, voice recordings. A man’s voice, tense: “They’ll move the vault shipment at 3 AM. No witnesses.”
Marcus froze. December 21st was tomorrow.
He returned to the alley at dawn, glove gone. A figure in a black peacoat lingered nearby, scanning the ground. Marcus ducked behind a dumpster, heart pounding. The stranger’s phone buzzed—*“Find it?”*—before they vanished into the subway.
At work, Marcus scrubbed floors, ears sharp. Bank staff murmured about “upgraded security,” but the vault door stood ajar during his shift. He glimpsed stacks of unmarked boxes inside, not cash. His hands shook.
Night fell. Marcus loitered across the street, hood up. At 2:45 AM, a armored truck rolled in. Men unloaded crates—no logos, no guards. He fumbled for his phone to record, but a hand clamped his shoulder.
“You shouldn’t linger, friend.” The peacoat man’s breath fogged in the cold. “That glove… it’s not your business.”
Marcus bolted, USB burning in his pocket. Home wasn’t safe—he drove to his sister’s, spilling the story. She scrolled the files, paling. “These voiceprints… that’s the deputy mayor.”
3 AM. News alerts blared: “Bank vault fire—arson suspected.”
Marcus’s phone lit up: Unknown number. “Stop digging. Or the next fire won’t be empty.”
The yellow glove reappeared on his doorstep at sunrise. Inside: a single bullet.
He buried both in the snow, but as he walked away, a shadow followed—patient, relentless.
The digital photograph, starting point of this fiction, captured in Montreal in 2025 is available in limited editions (100) on a Manifold Contract
Title: Relic #1 / The yellow glove Photographer: Mehdi Maciej Benembarek Year: 2025 Image Size: 6720 x 4480 pixels License: Primary NFT holder is free to use in advertising, display privately and in hgroups, including virtual galleries, metaverse, social media, documentaries and essays by holder of the NFT, as long as creator is credited.
AI Conductor: Mehdi Benembarek
Text: DeepSeek (2025)
AI visuals: Leonardo AI (2025)
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🚨 New AI Story - Relic #1 / The yellow glove 🚨 First drop of the series of Relics of the Unseen Metropolis! It all started from photographing an abandoned yellow glove this winter, it became an AI multimedia short thriller … https://paragraph.com/@relics-of-the-unseen-metropolis/relic-1-the-yellow-glove