The Distant Clue
The notification arrived not as a chime, but as a sudden, violent cessation of sound in the sterile, humming atrium of the Central Institute for Nutritional Synthesis, where the air was always scrubbed of dust and regret alike. You stood before the glass partition of Lab Four, watching the droplets of synthesized serum condense on the inside surface, each bead a perfect, fragile sphere...
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