The Faded Shield
The jar sits on the steel counter. It is blue. You know the color well. It is the color of the bruise that will bloom on your arm later. You are alone in the lab. The hum of the ventilation system is a low, steady drone. It fills the silence. You look at the jar. It contains a suspension of cellular matter. It is not food, not exactly. But it sustains. It is the last of the batch. The label...
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