The Distant Joke
The radio crackled, a burst of static that resolved into a voice calling Elias Thorne by name. It was not a summoning, exactly, but a check-in, the kind that meant the shift was ending and the silence was about to begin. Elias stood in the narrow corridor of the Sector Four outpost, his hand resting on the strap of his kit bag. The bag was heavy. It held the standard issue: a canteen, a...
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