The Golden Scar
The transport hummed, a low, persistent vibration that I felt not in my ears but in the marrow of my bones, a frequency calibrated to induce a state of docile compliance. I sat in the center of the pod, my legs folded beneath me, my hands resting on my knees with a stillness that was not peace but suspension. Around me, the air was sterile, scented faintly of ozone and lavender, a chemical...
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