Aug 3, 2018
Crystal Palace, in all its endless worker-bee wonder, clacks
and whirs its way across space, and now, as it nears the
destabilizing stain of the Twilight Mirage, time as well. Even now,
in transport, it is thinking, predicting, prophesying: Its pulleys
spinning with magnetic unison, decks of hole-punched cards flipping
through its designators, a pleasant coughing of gears and pinions.
This is how it knows everything.
But it did not always: There was a
moment before its creation--back when there was still time to
divert the direction of the Principality--and a time during its
bloody construction, when it felt the waves of the future but could
not yet pass them on to us in anything more than a mechanical roar.
And then there was the day it was finished, the very beginning
This week on Twilight Mirage: Guaranteed
Events, Or: An Accounting of the Time When We Built the
You dream of walls that hold us imprisoned
It's just a skull, least that's what they call it
And we're free to roam
Cover Art by Craig Sheldon (@shoddyrobot)
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