The barracks at night are a tomb. The only light comes from the faint, rhythmic pulse of the emergency floor strips, casting long, shadows across the rows of identical bunks. I lie still, my heart a trapped bird against my ribs. Beside me, Mara is breathing in that deep, empty way the Sync dictates, a sleep without dreams, a rest without a soul. I envy her for a split second. She doesn't have a piece of paper dissolving in her stomach. She doesn't have a dead brother’s secrets burning a hole in her mind.
I wait until the digital clock on the wall flickers to 12:03 AM. The shift change for the exterior guards happens at midnight, and it takes them exactly three minutes to rotate and take their position in the hall.
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