The Petri Dish Protocol
The room was white. Not the white of a cloud or a sheet of paper, but a sterile, aggressive white that seemed to vibrate at the edge of the vision. There were no corners, no seams, no windows. Just a single, brushed-steel table and a single, black chair. Subject 42 had been in the room for what he estimated to be twelve years. He didn't know his real name, his age, or the world outside. He only...
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