The Distant Garden
The doorbell rings at 4:12 a.m. It is a sharp, digital chirp that cuts through the silence of the house. You do not move. You know the sound. You know the weight behind it. You have spent thirty years in this house, and for the last decade, you have spent your nights in the basement, listening to the hum of the server racks. The house is a modern monolith of glass and steel, perched on a cliff...
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