The Faded Ruin
The document on my desk was a single sheet of heavy, cream-colored stock, stamped with the seal of the Ministry of Memory. It listed my tenure review, my performance metrics, and a column for "Psychological Stability." I signed it with a pen that felt too light in my hand, the ink drying instantly into a black scar. I am Elias Thorne, thirty-two, a junior archivist whose only ambition is to...
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