The Distant Machine
1904, March 14th. I have counted the rivets on the north boiler casing, one hundred and twelve in total, and I have weighed the coal in the hopper against the ledger’s claim, finding a deficit of three sacks that Vane will never account for. The work is precise, the metal cold, and my hands are stained with the grey dust of the engine room, yet the dream persists, a recurring intrusion that...
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