The Golden Circuit
October 12. The basement hums. It is a low, electric thrum that vibrates in the teeth, a sound the Bureau of Anomalies has never managed to dampen. I am writing this from my desk, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, casting a sickly yellow pallor on the paperwork before me. I want the promotion. I want the title of Director. I want the salary that will cover the experimental lung treatment...
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