ACT I: THE DEEP MACHINE
The dust on New Eden tasted like rust and old violence. The Reader knelt in the crater of a dead city — what the scattered tribes called "the Bowl of Gods" — and brushed sand from a surface that gleamed with an impossible, unnatural smoothness. It was metal, or had been once. The metal was older than any tribe's oral history, older than the Great Burn that had turned the sky to fire and the...
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