HEARPEN HR102 Notes

As the droning in her ears performed its pre-ordained function as introductory soundtrack, she instinctively knew the future of the mirage forming itself in a blank field. for a second she sensed leaving something behind. refocussing, she found herself facing a dimly lit shed vibrating with the pulse of internal generators. at the door stood a large man flecked by shards of white light that escaped the shed to annihilation in the overhanging hemisphere of an industrial arc lamp. she followed him inside through a deafening squall of unnamed noises combining their extremities in a miasma of smoke and gases peopled with queer shapes. humans(?) shuffling about; machines waving their arms. she couldn't tell which was which. spaces between machines were narrow, each moving part barely missing another. distracted by a waver in her peripheral vision, she raised her eyes to see giant aluminoid cables where the ceiling should have been, stretching off to infinity, from whence they transmitted Life to the machines. the man shouted incomprehensible explanations, then genuflected to the colossal steel-spiked stamping machines with cast-iron flywheels and iron balls that lashed the air with each stamping while immense cogwheels squeaked and groaned, shining black with oil. her eyes had grown accustomed to the dark and she could see men swaying, hypnotized by the revolution of the cogwheels. as always, her gaze returned to where the ceiling should have been, the vast silent cables shielded her from the formless Void.