The Distant Garden
The memo lay on the stainless-steel bench, its edges curling slightly in the dry, recycled air of the synthesis bay. It was a standard form, printed on the heavy, cream-colored stock that Aether Labs used for all official communications, the ink a stark, non-reflective black that seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it. Elias Thorne stared at the line item regarding his "Performance...
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