The Distant Garden

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2026-08-20 15:13:27 -

The banquet hall smelled of roasted garlic and expensive despair. It was a sterile, white-tiled room, a subterranean bunker beneath the Ministry of Harmonic Resonance, where the air was recycled through filters that stripped out all scent except the chemical tang of obedience. We sat around a long, polished mahogany table, twelve of us, the senior technicians of the Department of Neural...

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