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Halfway up a ladder at the west portal, Mercy finds a splice too good to be Coy's — and initials scratched where no eye was ever meant to find them. J.E.M., not J.E.P. Someone's arithmetic just stopped adding up.
Sylvie Abernathy took a summer job dismantling the switchboard her grandmother worked for twenty-two years. The equipment card says eighty subscriber jacks. There are eighty-nine. Nine of them are worn bright by hands that were never supposed to touch them — and one still has something alive on the far end.