The Pale Protocol

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2026-08-18 21:16:04 -

The Pale Protocol

The rain against the single, grime-streaked window of my cell was not a sound but a texture, a wet, cold finger tracing the glass over and over, reminding me that the world outside was still wet, still alive, still indifferent to the fact that I had decided to vanish into the dry, suffocating dark of this place. I sat on the edge of the cot, the metal frame humming a low, subsonic note that I...

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