And so the machines will rise, powered by obscure poetry and mad brilliance, as we stumble out of Eden, down the single road of our own transmogrified continuum.
The once illuminated path now covered in darkness, beyond the blitz a repressed memory or a forgotten daydream. Slowly you had turned into your own creation, and you saw that it was Good.
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And so the machines will rise, powered by obscure poetry and mad brilliance, as we stumble out of Eden, down the single road of our own transmogrified continuum.
The once illuminated path now covered in darkness, beyond the blitz a repressed memory or a forgotten daydream. Slowly you had turned into your own creation, and you saw that it was Good.