How long -- what... "-sign Schir. Ensign Schir." "Who."
Ah, this one. Dark. Wrong protocol. I took a deep breath. "Main dialogue?" "John Four. Room. Over." The voice bounced around in my head. "Brief." "No touch, Four. Limiter, Sixty. Over." "Wilco." "John Four Out." Static.
That was quick. I rippled a hand over the table until I found the lamp. The sheets were bleached a dirty yellow.
Why did they choose a bed? Horrid fashion sense. "Right... Room. I can figure that out myself." My voice echoed hollowly in the glass...
Glass walls? I see. Even the static had faded. The door --
opaque. Fancy tha -- opened.
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