The Distant Machine
The letter arrived on a Tuesday, folded into a square so precise it could have been cut from ice. Commander Elias Thorne stared at the parchment on his mahogany desk. The seal was black wax, broken already. Inside, a single sheet of heavy, cream-colored paper. The ink was faded, brown as dried blood. To the Honorable Commander Thorne, You are summoned to the Upper Office. Do not bring your...
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