I left a paper world where the present tense was trapped in wires.

Everywhere you looked you could see machines dressed up as lovers or children. Pets. Far away from the parades of exquisite spectacle and technology, the bodies piled up. Dreamers dreamed or fled to wonder. Mountains of bodies. Soldiers fought or relished thunder. We never did discover what we lost that led us there, to the edge of our humanity, where time was a wire that drew our blood into rhythms never meant for living bodies, and functions best reserved for morbid speculations. We never did discover what all those bodies meant, piled there, dead. We just wanted more. Faster. Bigger. I think we will tear down the sky itself.