The Pale Verdict
The air in the sub-basement of the Meridian Tower did not smell of dust or decay, as one might expect of a forgotten infrastructure, but of ozone and the sharp, metallic tang of high-voltage stress, a scent that clung to the back of Elias Thorne’s throat like a phantom taste. He stood before the primary server rack, a monolith of black aluminum and blinking diodes that hummed with a frequency...
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