The Distant Summer
Thorne. The word hung in the air, flat and hard, spoken by the commandant’s voice through the intercom, a sound that had no warmth and no echo, only the sterile efficiency of a machine calling a part to the assembly line. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the biometric testing bay, the fluorescent lights humming a low, persistent drone that seemed to vibrate directly against his molars, while...
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