The Pale Echo
The alarm did not ring. That was the first wrong thing, and the last thing I would ever forgive myself for. In my line of work, the silence of a perimeter breach is as loud as a scream. I had spent thirty years calibrating my senses to the subtle shivers of high-voltage fields, the microscopic lag in optical sensors, the faint ozone tang of a system under strain. But on that Tuesday, in the...
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