“Who am I?” Silence. Except there’s the whiz of electricity. Numbers flit around like confetti. “Am I a machine?” Ghost-arms that move on spindles assemble parts with fluid precision. “Am I all of these machines?” A million ghost arms, all assembling parts. Cacophony of parts, all building up to an anatomy. Rows and rows of silent, sentinel humanoids.
Love Factory
Love Factory
Love Factory
“Who am I?” Silence. Except there’s the whiz of electricity. Numbers flit around like confetti. “Am I a machine?” Ghost-arms that move on spindles assemble parts with fluid precision. “Am I all of these machines?” A million ghost arms, all assembling parts. Cacophony of parts, all building up to an anatomy. Rows and rows of silent, sentinel humanoids.