The Pale Tower
The server farm hums, a low-frequency vibration that I feel not in my ears but in the marrow of my teeth, a constant, subsonic reminder that I am not alone in the dark, even when the lights are off and the security cameras have been blinded by the very fog they were designed to cut through. I am sitting in the center of the cooling aisle, my back against the cold steel of a rack that holds the...
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