The Pale Protocol
The rain had been falling for three days, a relentless, grey curtain that turned the cobblestones of Edinburgh’s Old Town into slick, black mirrors reflecting the bruised sky above. I stood at the window of my cramped office in the university, watching the water bead and slide down the glass, each droplet a small, transient universe that vanished before it could reach the sill. Inside, the air...
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