The first thing Patient Seven noticed was that he could taste colors.
Not metaphorically. He could literally taste the blue of the sky above him — a cool, clean flavor like mint and cold water. He could taste the orange of the sunset bleeding through the horizon — warm, heavy, like honey on the tongue. It was euphoric. It was everything he had been promised. "Welcome to the Sanctum, Patient Seven," said a voice that sounded like nothing at all. Not a person's...
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