The Pale Fracture
The door seals with a hiss. It is a sound like a breath held too long. You are in the room. The room is white. It is not just white. It is the absence of color. The walls are panels of smooth, unyielding composite. No seams. No dust. No cracks. "Sit," says the voice from the intercom. It is not a voice. It is a frequency. It vibrates in your molars. You sit. The chair is molded to your spine....
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