The Pale Protocol
March 12, 2024 My fingers are wrapped around the knot of the tie, the silk worn thin and soft as old skin, and I am sitting in the break room while the coffee maker gurgles its last, bitter breath. I am writing this to you, Commander Halloway, because you are the only one left who remembers what it was like before the numbers replaced the men, and I need you to understand that I am not losing...
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