This, my viewer, is a very precious part of my projects. It gives a powerful and vivid point of view of the story in novel-form. And guess what: It takes me a WHOLE MONTH to make just one chapter!
Stay tuned on future chapters!
Somewhere, deep in substational gravity, was a machine being held and trapped by chain-mechanisms, inside a dark caged room.
The machine was historical looking: gears, cogs, claws and all sorts of mechanisms such. Also the parts of that very machine that turned in many of directions seemed interesting. The machine was like the form of a human, despite its drowsy features, especially its un-even arms. The machine appeared to be off, though gears kept moving. It dangled in the dark space for a long time.
Then, something spoke, as if someone was there.
You are lost, abandoned, deserted. You were created un-even. No one would want you. You are the most pathetic thing that I have seen of the existing dimensions. And worst of all, you will never escape."
But at the very second it said that, a blast sounded outside. The vibrations were inside. Then a few voices spoke:
"Were under attack!"
"Command. The junk stash is slowing down our speed. Should we dispatch?"
The voice heard what the other voices were saying. Obviously, he did not like what he heard. He began to taunt him again:
"Well they will never dispatch you!"
*Dispatching junk stash*, began a protocol-like voice.
"Well you'll never escape!"
The chain that held the feet to the machine unveloped. The cup that hovered its smaller arm lowered down. The large claw that pinched against his big, sharp hand opened up. After many other mechanisms let go of the thing, he clanked to the ground, still with turning cogs and gears.
Then finally, the stash doors opened out. The gravity pulled against the room. The machine slowly pulled off the ground and drifted out of the stash. After a while of drifting out, he started to burn. He caught a few flames and went faster. Then he entered an atmosphere and got on fire. The machine speeded up to a rate so fast, it past stars like mad. The space was blue now, then got lighter. The machine was heavier with speed. Then the gears froze stuck, and then spun crazilly. Then nothing. But then it went back up, which it would see that it hit the ground. It distanced a series of crashes that got smaller every one. Eventually, the machine made one final grading against the rock ground and shoveled large pieces out of the ground. Making a large pile of rocks, the machine's parts were loose. Some swung, some ticked. The machine just lied there stuck and broken. Then it pulled off and started to speak somewhat:
The machine got to its feet and began to look. It saw the smoke it steamed in the holes that it made. It looked farther. It also walked around on its unveloped daggered feet.
It developed its long-left-behind vision, its other cogs, it's pelvis and the rest of the mechanism.
It staggered in one direction, mostly because it was broken. Now, the night fell. And it kept moving, though.