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The Endless Corridor

They didn’t call it the Endless Corridor for nothing. It really was endless, stretching off into infinity. In fact, it’s still being built on right now. As it will be for the rest of eternity.

So naturally, knowing my luck, I get chosen to be a Builder. A Builder of the Endless Corridor (which, in case you couldn’t figure out, means I’ll be working on it for the rest of my life). Doomed to a life of sweat and toil, misery and pain.

There are currently three other Builders with me. Once one of us four dies, some lucky person will be forced to fill in. Which was just what had happened to me. Apparently some man named Jedediah was the Builder before me. He died of exhaustion, probably while building columns 435,567-476,238.

Being a Builder is, according to all citizens who aren’t one, a duty, or, a calling, if you will. Since I was chosen, my family got all sorts of pensions and benefits. Just not me.

There’s got to be some way to end this. So I’m at least going to try.

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