The Pale Protocol
The bus slows. You step off. The gravel crunches under your boots. It is early. The fog hangs low over the valley. You carry a duffel bag. It is heavy. You are tired. You have not slept well in three days. The air smells of wet earth and diesel. You walk toward the building. It is gray. It is long. It is windowless on this side. This is the processing center. This is where you work. You are a...
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