The Pale Fracture
The stamp lay in the center of the mahogany desk, a small, heavy disc of brass and black lacquer. It was not a tool of war, nor a badge of rank, but a seal of authentication. To Thomas Bradshaw, a Senior Auditor of the Department of Cognitive Compliance, it was a burden. It was also, in the quiet, fractured moments between shifts, the only thing that felt real. The office was cold. It always...
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