The Pale Mist
The order slip lay on the steel tray, the ink still wet and black as a bruise, and you read it three times before your fingers found the edge of the paper. It was a simple directive, signed in the sharp, angular script of Dr. Silas Vane, the head physician: *No further procedures on Patient 402. Isolation protocol in effect.* You looked up from the tray, the weight of the paper negligible...
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