The Golden Scar
"You’re flagged, Elias. The algorithm doesn’t care about your blood." The voice came from the other side of the partition, thin and dry as old paper. I sat in the interview room, the fluorescent tube above me buzzing at a frequency that made my teeth ache. The light was white, aggressive, stripping the shadows from the corners where the peeling wallpaper curled away from the plaster. I looked...
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