The Wistful Ashes
The notification arrived at 06:00, a silent vibration in the cold, sterile air of the dormitory room, signaling the end of Margaret’s tenure as a primary caregiver. It was not an alarm, but a soft, rhythmic pulse from the biometric cuff on her wrist, the device that monitored her heart rate, her hydration levels, and her compliance with the Community Health Protocols. The screen displayed a...
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