Leo leaned in. The screen flickered, and suddenly he wasn't watching a video. He was in the silo. He could smell the wet rust. He felt the weight of a stranger’s regret. The footage showed a control room where a man in a lab coat was crying, smashing a keyboard because he had deleted a file named “daughter.hope.” It wasn't acted. The grief was so raw, so dense , that Leo tasted salt on his lips.
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