The Distant Machine
The dream was not of war, nor of the muddy trenches that had claimed the legs of his brothers in arms, but of a vast, humming machine made of bone and iron, standing in a field of white ash, and in the dream he was not holding a rifle but a pair of spectacles, their lenses cracked and filled with swirling grey smoke, and he knew with a certainty that felt like physical pain that if he put them...
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