The Distant Cartograph
The jar sat on the counter. Glass, thick and green. Inside, a sludge of amber and black swirled. You stared at it. The label read: *Compound 4-A. Do not ingest.* It had been there for three days. Since the inspection. Since the rumors started. You worked in the basement of the Halcyon Pharmaceutical Plant. Second floor, west wing. The air tasted of copper and old dust. Your job was simple. You...
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