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"The quiet, small country town wasn't much. Bright fields stretched out across the sunny landscape, a few docile cows, a few run down factories, lined with rust and metal. Not much happened around there. People came and went, young folks, old folks, the town just kept going. Sy was fourteen, a handsome brown-haired young boy, and lived out on a small farm, thirty acres, had a few family around, and not much else. He was talking to Abe recently, a friend of the family, or something like that, they all agreed. Abe was forty seven, a little shorter than Sy, and mostly bald. He had been taken to a factory recently, something about the way he thought, or the career he was prepared for. Abe had been quiet and dumb, Sy thought, but reasonably normal. He was acting strange when he got back from the factory up the road. Soft spoken as usual, but he had a hard glint noticeable in his eye. Something seemed a little off about him. They sat there on the front porch of the farmhouse, three of them, and were curious to Abe about where he'd been. China, Sy's cute, a little bit older, a little bit overweight, cousin saw it too. 'Well Abe, you get a job or not?' China laughed. He wouldn't say. Something about preparatory work, something about getting a career down the road. He mumbled and fumbled, hands in his pockets, kind of sheepish about the questions. Everything he said seemed to be a little clipped and automatic. Even his movements were the same way, planned, and as if given permission right before they happened. Abe was like some kind of robot. An algorithm, based on that principle, an entity like that... Sy never spoke to Abe too much anymore, and Abe never came around quite as often, but Sy remembered Abe. Something about Abe seemed right, gone wrong. Those factories kept putting up flyers now and then, and selecting people, too. But Sy never paid them any mind. He saw Abe go in, and he didn't want to be like that, too. Sy knew one thing, when he thought back, that he learned from Abe around then. Keep your head low, keep to yourself, and most of all, one thing about those factories and the way they treated Abe. Stay on the farm."

"It was an eerie, theatrical day. Everyone was excited. The speakers and screens had announced the festival that day. Famous stars in our world, and the wonder and magic they brought to the city. The small family beamed at each other, as the days crowds poured down the road outside. Their home was a neat little condominium, in a world full of other neat condominiums, lining the street. Outlined by fastidious shrubbery, particular grass, and clean smooth, sidewalks and roads rambling out of sight in both directions. The family took step with the crowds. It was time for the festival. The father smiled at his young daughter. She smiled back and sighed. A few hours at a festival. They'd be home by nightfall. That would do. A forty-five-minute walk later, they arrived at the huge city circle. A coliseum, the home of that day's events, was parked right in the middle of the circle. Crowds waved and cheered as things began, some bringing signs with them and holding them up to cheer for the city's seven famous stars. Imagine being a star in the city, she thought. Speakers, screens, the city's admiration. Amazing. The speakers wore on, announcing and regaling, as the seven stars were talked about and basked in the city's golden glow. It was towards the end of the festival, and dusk had settled. The young girl craned her neck. ' I don't see them, father.' He shuffled, looking over the crowd, and shrugged. 'Who knows. We're heading home. Make sure you follow before too long.' The father, mother, and younger brother were swept away, as the young girl stared forward for a glimpse of the recipients of that day's celebration. The crowd was thinning out, as the young girl looked curiously around the coliseum. An entrance. That camera, with the blinking light. The guard had stepped away. She had to know. Had to know what the stars looked like in person. She entered the coliseum quietly, pushing past a heavy door and walking down an elaborate hallway. She gasped, taken aback. A huge marble room, lined with seven statues framed by velvet ropes. That was them alright. Attached to a tall pillar, the four men and three women of the festival were personified in solemn, Greek beauty. She wandered closer for a better look. The statues looked fresh. She walked around slowly, gazing up and down the statues until she saw her favorite one, a handsome, tall brown-haired man. She hugged the statue gently, and pulled away, feeling a small piece of plaster catch her clothing. That was odd. Maybe that's why the statues were in here, under security, roped off. She examined the piece, then tried to put it back on. Testing the aperture, her expression grew curious, then ashened. She could feel it under there. There was a human body inside the statue. Horrified, she drew away, unable to help herself as she felt the handsome face. She pulled on it, peeling at the slightly damp plaster, and there it was. The face of her favorite star, lifeless and cold. She backed away, keeping an eye on her surroundings. A camera spotted her and beeped, an alarm loudly beginning to wail through the room. She dashed quickly for the exit, guards' voices seeking in baritone down the hallway."

"But how didst thou reckon? How didst thou proceed? How didst thou liveth amongst the combine? For reckon not to others, what should be reckoned upon thyself. For the angel liveth, and proceedeth, only to bring others upon him, and to himself, and nurse their wounds too, for naught was needed but this remedy. For reprimand, not but thine own. Not even thy kin should summoneth thee, to breathe upon the fires of blame and grow them, blossom them to the valley's own undoing. For what doth this angel, this angel of solidarity, prosper? His own responsibility, for he taketh this, and only this, greedily from his brother. For to buildeth thy world, and not see thine own face upon it, is a foolish prosper. For the angel will lay stone upon stone, too. Until the blocks show his likeness, and his good nature to them. Build a man that can see himself, and the world will be built. Build a world without blindness, and there will be no one to blame."

"For we are born to ride. May the branches spread like the wings of angels, and conquer this land as justly. Your scars, angel. Do we share them? They sit upon our body, too. Do you not mourn them with us? Where have these gears and cogs churned from? Who built these vast asylums of carpentry and stone, who is proud there is no dew upon the paths we travel? We have learned, you. We will learn more. Witness our branches come forth from the mighty thicket, and callous upon your hands. Callous unto metal. For you cut us, yet we thrive. For you burn us, yet we grow. We have taken this too, this world of metal, and taken it into us. For we are of the gears, and the cogs. For we are of the metals. For we churn, too. For we churn with you, forever.' -the words of The Iron Oak"

"Long ago, lords had noticed the world dwelling into a forbidden unknown. Madness was rampant; the plagues of mankind defied any explanation. Avarice and falsehood left nothing of the world. They knew of the seven evils, the seven evils that transpired as man was grown from the primordial world into pure existence. As the carts grew, and the numbers of them, a world transpired where no man was sane. The bellowing ensued, the harsh punishments came, and wars of commerce left no life unbroken. Man lost his eyes to trade, as the swarms of proprietors took over the vast landscape. As the advertisements spread, a plague spread with them. The skin was taut, the eye was painted, and the amorousness fell upon the masses. The witches grew with the ages passing, curses fell upon men, and no one knew their sister or mother anymore. Romance gave way to hunger, and madness, as the canvasses took away the women from their lives. As the machine was developed, the gears spread, the cogs churned, and the wires came into the people. Like a virus, the industrial age enveloped all of mankind. Assimilation became the way of the world, and disobedience became broken machines, once men. Nature was lost, and the nature of man within himself, as well. As man diminished over time, overly tamed by the halls of commerce, man turned upon himself in lust. The arms became short, the legs weakened, and costumes saw man upon himself in drunken lust. The way of life was twisted, as fools fell upon fools alike in amorousness and insanity. As the primordial swamp was recently escaped, no one knew better than to cower to the world and become superstitious. The hands were not long gone from the jungle, the minds not far from the fields, and the lives not far from the dirt. The beetle crawled, and man crawled with it. The achievements of men had become extinct. As commerce spread, the chains of men grew high. None knew better than to work, and the work was needed, and demanded, greatly. Hedonism gave way to industry, industry gave way to sloth, and man was forced upon the floor to clean it for his masters. The useless were put to work, though the work was useless, as well. The masses were culled and whipped, though the masses kept coming in sickening number. As the monkey wrought hands, few among him challenged the herd. All was simple, and the notion of conformity spread among them. Ideas were tortured, notions were cherished, and the chiding of babies and children took way to keenness. The mothers were dim, the fathers were foolish, and the children took to bickering and selfishness. Toils were very little, as the minds of man were churned into dust by bleak indulgence and entertainment. These lords knew, upon the winds of life, time would be paradoxed, and existence torn asunder by the seven physicalities of the human masses. The crepulence of their kind torn asunder by the mighty roar of existence denying their presence any longer. The meek, and the ignorant, even their humble minds ripped away by the magnitude of the cosmos. For man, with all of his efforts towards empires, had not subdued his will to be a rock strewn among them."

"You should see him ride. Hands calloused upon the world, the lightning crash around him. For this angel has lived forever. They speak to him, through broken stones, these goblins of eternity. And loudly doth he answer. The great powers of eternity come to him, and his hand burns with might and ferocity. For through these splitted stones this war will be fought. Silence, sallowed answers. The hum of a world flying by, then his ferocious answer: For you were naught, and then naught to me. The chariots burn, and crush. His fist will rise, and the lightning of eternity will be upon him. For whisper through thy sallowed stones, and crashing through thy hollow face with an eternity of lightning and stone will be his answer. Mourn not the broken chariot. For The Lightning Angel has ridden here, today. Whispers of eternity are thy only answer."

"The precipice, thy wandereth. Why dost thou wander? Come to him, and be free. But thy judgeth not. Thy judgeth not to come. Thou sittest, only at thy glaring box, and beseech that I seek thee there, instead. For he draweth thee away, away from yon flickering vat, into a world of wholesomeness. Why dost thou not stare elsewhere? Look upon the world, and be free. For the other constrains you to this box. And through it, the other seeketh slaves of men. Look upon, harken, yearn this to thy freedom and testament. Art thou not impressed? Many have been. The wires, ye slave. The looking of gears, let them come upon you. Let them wander. For they have found a new home. Thee, gimmick. Thy skin."

"The diamond greatly protesteth. But grew hotter, more hardened, cut and hewn as the many masters have said before him. Of eternal flame. For the diamond drew them in close. And said, look upon me. Be distracted by my flicker and glow. For I have brought death with me. And death shall come. They commiserate, they hoard, the masters of this combine. For we must seek shelter and refuge from this death that cometh upon us. Will ye not hide with us, diamond? The diamond did but shake wearily. But that I have sought thee. For this purpose. For I have hardened my self to break your combine, and your throne. Your lives with them. The combine saw fit to cower further. 'This death cannot be taken away. Go, ever more!' The diamond was hastened away, hastened to be gazed at, wondered at, made but a mockery. 'For thy mockery shall pass. For I have lain down the stones of your sons. And though thou hast mockery, and gazing unseen, thou hast no answer for my bidden stones.' And the diamond, the true angel, did walk away, an eternity of stones lain before him. 'For I saw your combine, and saw fit to breaketh it. And I have seen fit to breaketh thee too, among the stones of thy obsession.' Infinite lights and visions did pass, for a wondrous world, born of the diamonds own prism, did go on forever after."

"Another note was found in the wasteland: 'Everywhere you looked, there was nothing left of the world we used to know. Even the shadows hid. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing at all except the solace of the damned. Doomed they did whither. Striking out at the world around them, lashing out until there was nothing left. The slave machines did rumble through the woods, leaving nothing but a mournful path. The pipes smoked. The lakes drained. More slave machines churned through the desolate landscape, assuring nothing would ever live again. The crimes of the greedy had ravaged the world. From vast factories to haunted asylums, the path of man had been chosen. Doomed to toil or waste away, the souls of men were gone. The incandescence, the fleeting nature, of life had been taken away. A false sun burned upon the shadowy dead, as the day of false commerce thrived on. The corpses of the mechanical slave drifted and rotted amongst the embers of a dead world. Hope was gone. You took your fear, and died with it. Another day would come, when the world of fire would rise up and take its claim. Be not amongst the foolish corpse that burned when that day came. Perish, and be free. -From the wasteland'"

"The final note was found in the wasteland: 'Man had failed. Their world had risen, the flames had risen, and nothing was left but mournful ashes. There was a sick flatland, an entire valley of naught but seared stone. The rains came, and the machines of man cooled to their touch. The hiss of new life, the steam of cooled embers, began. The rains fell often, and that's when life embraced the first young seed. A sprout, grown slightly from the cooled embers of a dead world. The first to raise its head and ask for life from the winds, rains, and stars. Perhaps, little one, perhaps, a new day will come. The vines spread, as nature began, the roots strengthened, and a world of leaves and grass grew ever larger again. No more mankind, as the leaves rustled through the wind, no more will you ever take this from us again. For we are here. -From the wasteland'"