The Distant Joke
Elias woke from a dream of rust. The metal had tasted of iron and old blood. It was not a nightmare. It was a memory of the machine. He sat up in the narrow cot. The walls of the cell were damp. The air smelled of mildew and the ozone tang of the ventilation shafts. He was back at the Mill. He had been gone for three years. They had called him a traitor. They had stripped his rank. They had...
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