The Golden Scar
The elevator doors slide open with a hiss of pressurized air, depositing you into the sterile, humming corridor of the Ministry of Memory, where the walls are lined with brushed steel and the air smells faintly of ozone and antiseptic. You are Elias Thorne, a Compliance Officer of fourteen years, and you are forty-two, which means you have three years left before your own scheduled correction,...
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