The Distant Joke

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2026-08-17 14:45:44 -

The Distant Joke

The feast was a thing of iron and oil, a sprawling banquet of rusted engines and humming currents that stretched across the floor of the Void. It was not a room, but a state of being, a liminal space where the geometry of the world had given up and folded in on itself. Here, the air tasted of ozone and old blood, and the light came from the veins of the machinery itself, pulsing in a rhythm...

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