The Wistful Cipher
The dream always began with the same sound, a high-pitched digital shriek that tore through the silence of the sleep like a needle through silk, and then there was the glass, not a window but a screen, a vast, curved pane of tempered Gorilla Glass that reflected not the face of the sleeper but the face of the other, a face that was almost familiar, a face that wore a smile which did not quite...
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