The Bureaucratic Void
The Metropolitan Detention Center of New York was not a prison of bars and locks, but a prison of forms and stamps. It was a vast, windowless expanse of beige corridors and humming fluorescent lights, where the air smelled of old toner and stale coffee. Adam had been here for fourteen months. His crime was "Administrative Non-Compliance," a charge so vague it could apply to anyone who failed to...
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