The Wistful Ashes
The incident report lay on the metal desk, the paper stiff with humidity, listing three breaches in Sector 4’s ventilation grid. Elias Thorne signed the bottom line without looking, his pen scratching a sharp, angular signature that had become less a name and more a barcode over the last decade. He was thirty-four, a senior containment officer, and he had exactly forty minutes before the shift...
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