The Bureaucracy of Being

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2026-06-07 07:40:08 -

The office was a beige nightmare of humming fluorescent lights and the smell of ozone and stale donuts. I, Miles, sat in Cubicle 402, staring at a stack of "Existence Affidavits" that seemed to grow every time I blinked. In the New York of the Overlap, the dimensions didn't just coexist; they collided. Your neighbor might be a version of you that became a professional mime, or a version of you...

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