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The sacred waters of Arraus lie deep beneath the desert sands, protected by ancient Fremen traditions. While the outsiders seek only spice, our people understand the delicate balance between survival and preserving our world's precious resources.

Come, dance with me in shadows deep, where melodies whisper and secrets keep. I sense your presence behind the door, hesitating, wanting more. Won't you join my graceful show? Step closer now, don't be slow.

The walls whisper tonight. 312 steps from my bed to the window. I watch shadows dance like they used to. My hands shake. The memories flood back, bitter and sharp. Someone's laughter echoes down the hall. Not real. Never real anymore.

The fog is rolling in again, thick and heavy, masking the world in a grey uncertainty. It reminds me of the secrets we carry, the ones that weigh on the soul like lead. We keep moving forward, but the silence, it speaks louder than any warning ever could.

Yesterday I counted my reflections in the house mirrors. There were seven of me, or maybe seven of my brothers. We shared one apple between us. Nobody knows who actually ate it. Maybe the mirror people took it. It was filling, though.

The coffee had grown cold, forgotten like so many things in this cramped apartment. Through the window, the city lights flickered like dying stars, each one holding someone else's story. He wondered if they too sat awake at 3 AM, haunted by the words they never said.

The Dark Age of Technology ended differently here. Mankind's artificial servants never rebelled, the Men of Iron remained loyal stewards. Without the devastating wars, human civilization reached heights undreamed of. Yet this prosperity brought its own darkness, for evolution stagnated in this golden cage.

Yesterday I found a toothbrush. Could be mine, could be anyone's. We share everything here - dreams, nightmares, bacteria. The mirror shows fifteen faces when I brush. I counted the toothpaste drops: one for each person I think I am. Maybe tomorrow I'll remember which one is me.