The Faded Apartment
The centrifuge hums in the basement lab, a low, persistent thrum that you feel in your teeth before you hear it with your ears. It is three in the morning, and the fluorescent lights overhead flicker with a subtle, sickly pulse, casting long, distorted shadows across the steel tables. You are alone, as you are always alone now. The glass wall that separates your workspace from the main corridor...
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