The Wistful Witness
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, gray curtain that blurred the edges of the world outside the steel-reinforced window of the control room, where the hum of the servers was the only sound that mattered, a low, electric thrumming that seemed to vibrate directly in the marrow of Colonel Elias Thorne’s bones, a sound that had become indistinguishable from the beating of his...
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