The Distant Metropolis
The rain had been falling for three days, a relentless, gray curtain that turned the muddy fields behind the detention center into a slurry of brown and black, and I stood in the center of the mess hall, listening to the hum of the ventilation fans, that low, electric drone that sounded less like machinery and more like the collective, weary sigh of men who knew they were about to be erased. We...
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