The Faded Quadrant
I dreamt of the grid again. It was not a dream of light, but of geometry, a cold, white lattice that stretched out in every direction, suspended in a vacuum that hummed with a low, subsonic frequency. I saw my own hands, pale and translucent, reaching for the lines, trying to trace the path of a signal that had long since decayed. I woke with the taste of copper in my mouth, the metallic tang...
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