The brain under Dr. Alistair Finch's microscope was not supposed to exist.
He adjusted the focus knob by a fraction of a millimeter and watched the neural tissue come into sharper relief. The sections had been cut that morning by his lab assistant, a nervous young man named Pemberton who handled preserved specimens with the reverence of someone who understood that each slide represented a person who had, at some point, been someone's child. The neural connections were...
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