The Faded Shield
You count the hours first, because counting is the only thing that keeps the noise down. Fourteen hours of archiving, three hours of waiting for the server to sync, two hours of walking the corridor to the Director’s office. The math is simple, but the weight of the rusted shield badge in your coat pocket is not. It is a heavy, circular thing, the metal pitted and dull, a relic of a time when...
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