The Distant Nightmare
The ledger weighed four pounds. Elias Thorne counted the entries, his finger tracing the indented lines where the ink had bitten into the paper. Forty-two years of service, thirty of them in the Ministry of Records. He had expected a pension. He had expected silence. Instead, he had a sealed file and a flag on his digital profile that read: ANOMALOUS HANDWRITING. The algorithm did not care...
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