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Godliness in Stone

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  Scene 1 It smells like… time down here. Not just damp earth or rot, but something older. A primal scent that’s been waiting in the dark for a millennium. I’m recording this at the bottom of the scar somewhere in the anomaly. In my mind, it's called the Necropolis Gully . My helmet is trying to map it—casting these sterile, digital grids over the moss and the stone—but the data doesn’t make sense. It’s glitching. It’s shuddering against the reality of this place. I don't know why I'm here, looking at ruins. Just... debris. But in the ruins, I found the ghosts of a future that never happened. I was walking over shards of polymerised memories . This was once a city.  It was meant to be the heart of a new world that... simply stopped. It wasn't an engineering failure. It was a failure of existence. Holding that slate, I felt this... weight. The grief of the architect. The "wounds of unbuilt dreams." I realised then that this isn't a graveyard for people. It’...

Godin Waiting

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Godin Waiting  I have been in-waiting to go, for far too long. Wanting to change, to improve, to transform.  Now I am stuck in this place of best practices.  All the pre-planning, all the strategy, the tactics, and motivation is fading away. Step one, two, and three are now at mercy to this real-world placement. This waiting room, a monstrous social construct contained through collective intuition. All who have experienced disregard, within chant of 'be patient', have found their way into this room.  The fight to climb and to gain authority eventually leads to waiting.  The eventuality - all worn out by the fight within itself. Only to become the shell of what could have been and was now has ever-been.  Increments and trinkets of discarded shells underscored by the need to profit.  Shedding the skins of splendor and replaced by titles and agents of authority. I am within the placement of a utilized progression cue. ...