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... gers hovered over the keys of the antique typewriter, I realized I had no idea how to actually do that.
The keys weren’t marked with letters. They were marked with runes that shifted and writhed like living ink. One second the ’A’ key looked like a flame, the next it looked like a screaming face.
"Don’t just stare at it," the Editor snapped, his ink-body rippling as the bunker shook from an explosion outside. "The deletion wave has already consumed the perimeter. If you don’t sta ...
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