"The Memories of the Dead"

#0156. We dislike reminders of our mortality but dislike the prospect of forgetting our fellow mortals even more. Our memorials are to keep the subject in our thoughts, because our brains are constructed to expunge the knowledge that we will end. The secret place is encircled by countless memorials. Each life lives again there, but wholly unaware. I asked Alice if the dead have memories. She did not answer. She never ever answers.

"Do Not Admit That God is Weeping"

#0157. Alice, before the first world was manufactured, was lonely in the darkness. For ages left without demarcation, Alice sat in absolute darkness and she wept in isolation. This is the story they leave out. They do not want to admit that God cries or that God can be lonesome. God created the stars and from them, the angels. The angels were her first companions. But eventually, like all of her works, the angels would disappoint her.

"I Loved Her More and More Each Day"

#0158. Hours in and hours out. My eyes focused on the ceiling. I inverted it. Fixtures turned upright. The vault of the ceiling become the gully in the floor. I traced my steps through the alien terrain. Droning matters. Haunted pipes. One day the crackle came over the speaker. The voice was ancient and it was defeated. "I loved her more and more each day." We thought so, at least. It was so quiet and it was unexpected.

"Uncomfortable"

#0159. The tiny horrors are the worst horrors. They dig in under fingernails. They split the skin between your index and middle fingers. They burrow under flesh and into blood. Aliens are among us. I am one. Did the aliens even know what they were? The picture moved of its own accord. There are vermin staring at me. They look up with bewildered eyes and I cannot share my task with them. I am no Cinderella. I am no Snow White.

"The Machineries"

#0160. I feel like the machineries are devolving, you know? Like from the ace and then there was an indistinct piece of it? The spindle burns and glows. What is that light? Did you find what you were looking for? The future doesn't mourn in the same way the past does. I will slink through this automaton. I will feel what it feels for you.

"The Failures of the Origins"

#0161. Among us are the origins. I sometimes stare into the primordial soup and I wonder about the different outcomes that could have been. Now I am a being of reason and light, but there would have been a better path without our ancestors. Each successive mistake is replicated a thousand million times in my genes. I am the end result of their failures.

"Each Window is an Eye on Us"

#0162. Stare upward. The threat is looming. Each window is an eye on us. Stare upward. The threat is looming. Each window is an eye on us. I support the decisions of the council, whoever they may be. I give a signal to my superiors. The bullets rain down and I will find my peace on the bloodied sidewalk.