The Pale Altar
The frost did not merely settle on the glass of the laboratory; it grew, a crystalline accretion that mapped the veins of the room in a language older than the equations scrawled across the whiteboards. I have spent the better part of two decades within these sterile, humming walls, the Institute for Advanced Theoretical Acoustics, a place where the air is scrubbed of dust and, I often suspect,...
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