The Distant Whispers
The order comes down through the chain of command like a cold draft, silent and absolute, instructing you to report to the central processing hall for final calibration. You are not the one who issues the order; you are the one who executes it, a functionary of the machine, a cog in the iron machinery of the state. You move through the corridors of the St. Jude’s Sanatorium, a place where the...
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