The Wistful Skyline
The dream began with the sound of a bell, not the sharp, mechanical chime of a train station or the deep, resonant toll of a cathedral, but the flat, metallic, almost surgical ping of a notification light on a screen that I could not see, a sound that vibrated in the marrow of my bones and signaled the arrival of an order I had long ago ceased to question, though the question itself remained...
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