The Pale Protocol
The log begins. Entry one. Date unknown. The air in the sub-basement is thick with the scent of ozone and wet stone. I write by the light of a single, flickering bulb. It hums. A low, constant drone. It sounds like a fly trapped in glass. I am the Keeper. I hold the key. I hold the silence. The creature is in the tank. It is not a fish. It is not a plant. It is something else. It is pale. It is...
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